


The Dreaming

by TwoTonedMadness



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Bisexual Female Character, F/M, Fade Dreams, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Isekai on Hard Mode, Modern Girl in Thedas, POV Original Female Character, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21709765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoTonedMadness/pseuds/TwoTonedMadness
Summary: Alana Rose unexpectedly finds herself in Thedas, woefully unprepared and with no one to rely on but herself."You’d think that winding up in a fantasy universe where magic and elves were real would be a fantastic experience. The reality of it was the complete opposite. If I’d come here and had magic, or was in the care of a worldly adviser, it might be fun. But no, I had to be dumped in the middle of bumfuck nowhere with nothing to help me but my wits and skills borne of an idle interest in swordplay. Fuck me." -excerpt
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 195





	1. Chapter 1

#### Part One: Sorrow

* * *

Consciousness returned abruptly, several sensations registering at once: the cold, hard ground; the rocks and twigs digging into my back; leaves rustling overhead as the wind blew through the trees; and the feeling of _insects crawling through my hair_.

I shrieked, eyes flying open as I rolled over onto my knees and clawed my hands through my short hair, trying to shake out the insects that I could feel _crawling_. Panicking, I stood and clawed at my scalp, flinging my hands away when I touched one of the insects. Long, agonizing minutes passed as I sobbed, ferreting out every last insect I could still feel crawling on my head.

After reassuring myself that my hair was free of the nasty bugs, I took big, gulping breaths as I tried to calm my racing heart.

With my heart still pounding in my chest, I looked around, brow furrowing as I tried to figure out why I was lying on the dirt. I was almost phobic about insects crawling on me in my sleep, there’s no way in hell that I would have willingly laid down on the bare dirt.

Yet there was nothing in my immediate surroundings, no tent, sleeping bag, not even a blanket.

Grabbing the front of my shirt, I slowly turned around, taking in my surroundings. I stood in the middle of a dirt path with trees and brush lining the path as far as I could see. The path was wider than the hiking paths I’d walked with friends, more of a path for a forest ranger to drive down, maybe?

The trees themselves were taller than I’d ever seen in my life, easily well over two hundred years old. How much older must they be, I wondered distantly, the thought oddly separate from my panicky consciousness.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I closed my eyes a moment to steel my nerves. I’d always had issues with anxiety; I had lived with it so long that I had made my peace going through life with it haunting my every action. But right now, it had to take a back seat. Running around like a chicken with its head cut off was not good.

Taking another deep breath and slowly releasing it, I opened my eyes and took stock of my surroundings with clearer eyes.

The fact that I was on a pathway was good. That meant that I wasn’t lost someplace that would make finding my way back to civilization impossible.

Looking down at my clothes, I figured that they were also a good indication that I couldn’t be far from civilization. I was wearing my normal summer clothes: jeans, boots, and a short sleeved shirt. If I had been planning on going camping, I’d be wearing a different set of clothes more suited to long hours without air conditioning. Even if I couldn’t remember how I got here, I remembered that much about myself.

“Alright,” I told myself. “Alright, alright, alright. I can do this. Let’s get going.”

Looking down either direction of the path I was on, I debated which way would be the best to start heading down. If it was a path for forest rangers to drive down, then it was possible it could go on for miles before anything was in sight. But that would also mean there could be a ranger station at the end, one of those forest watch towers in case of fires, or maybe a cabin they would use to sleep in when it got dark.

Taking another deep breath, I turned to my left and began walking with determination. My legs were aching within minutes, but the ever present anxiety urged me on in the hopes that something, someone, was around just around the corner.

Unfortunately, the longer I walked, the more the anxiety was taking over again, turning into panic. I saw no trail signs, no outhouses, no short wooden fences. Hell, I didn’t even see any furrows from tires going over the soft earth.

I tried to reassure myself that it wouldn’t be long now, that I would see something. The dirt path was obviously traveled, pitted with tracks from animals and people. Just because that was all I saw didn’t mean I had picked the wrong direction.

But with the thought suddenly in my head, panic set in.

I took off at a slow jog, increasing my pace until I was flat out running. Just around the next corner! There had to be something, someone! Tears began to streak down my cheeks and my vision became blurry, but onwards I ran until I stepped on a rock jutting out from the ground, my ankle turning and making me fly forward, catching myself on my elbows before my face could slam into the dirt. The shock from my arms ramming into my breasts stole my breath and I lay there, quietly sobbing and gasping, for several long minutes.

Once the tears had slowed to a trickle and I regained my breath, I slowly rose to my knees and picked up the neck of my shirt to wipe the tears and snot from my face.

“Fuck,” I muttered angrily. “FUCK.” I scrubbed harder at my face, anger now replacing the panic and filling me with resolute determination. No one was going to come for me and I wasn’t going to find anyone anytime soon. The only one I could rely on at this point was myself, and damned if I wasn’t going to let myself down.

Gritting my teeth and refusing to start crying again as the pain in my arms began registering, I stood and began walking again. This time, the pace I set was reasonable and wouldn’t tire me out within minutes.

It wasn’t long until I heard the distant sounds of...something. Chills went down my back as I drew closer to them but hope began to rise in my chest.

Battle.

They were the sounds of battle.

The sounds of steel clashing against steel, people shouting as they fought against one another, and people dying.

I must be close to an SCA event! That meant people who could help me!

I sped up, jogging down the path. The sounds of battle grew louder with every step and my relief with it. I could now see a bright light at the end of the path, the trees suddenly falling away and letting the sunlight shine full down on the earth.

Coming to the edge of the treeline, I came to a stop and beheld the battle waging in front of me. It was a small battle, maybe about fifty participants, but already a fourth of those participants lay on the ground, defeated and playing dead while their comrades continued the fight.

I looked around, trying to see past the clusters of fighters. There had to be an encampment close by, or even a place for spectators to watch the battle. In the distance, I saw what looked like a medieval fort. That must be where the non-combatants were staying while the fight waged on.

Circling the treeline, I looked for a ‘corpse’ that was far enough from the fighting that I wouldn’t risk interrupting them and getting myself injured. There were bodies heaped upon each other closer to the fighting, fake blood splattering the trampled grass beneath. I was looking for the ‘corpses’ further away, the ones who had 'died' first when the battle began.

Halfway to the other side of the battle, I finally found a ‘corpse’ close enough to not interrupt the fighters. I kept myself low to the ground, to make myself as unobtrusive as possible, and edged closer to the person laying on the grass in a pool of fake blood.

Once I was kneeling beside them, the knees of my jeans soaking in the fake blood, I reached down to nudge their shoulder, hoping I wouldn’t startle them too badly.

As I reached down, I noticed that their ears were curiously pointed, quite long in fact. A very well done prosthesis--but I suddenly couldn’t remember if the SCA allowed fantasy elements in their events.

I reached out, hand on the person’s shoulder, and stopped cold.

The wind had shifted and I could finally smell the blood.

The very real blood.

_SWISH!_

I fell back just in time to narrowly avoid the blade that cut into the body in front of me. I looked up, eyes wide, and saw Death.

This was not an SCA battle.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here,” Death spoke, lifting his blade from the corpse, the indescribable sound impossibly loud in my ears. “A carrion bird looking to feast upon the dead before the battle’s even done?”

I swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. Trembling from head to toe, I scrambled backwards, eyes flicking between Death and the bloody sword he wielded.

“Come now,” Death said, watching me as he stepped closer menacingly. “Did you honestly think we wouldn’t notice a stranger skulking about the field?”

“Please,” I said, voice high. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Death laughed. “Begging for mercy already? My, you’re a cowardly thing, aren’t you!” He stepped closer as I scrambled back further, hands digging into trampled grass for purchase as my boots slipped uselessly on the blood soaking the earth.

“Please, I just got lost, please, I just wanted to find a way to get home!”

Death stopped laughing and snarled down at me. “We all want to go home, knife-ears, yet here we are!” He lifted his blade high and swung down.

I rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the blade as it sunk into the earth. On hands and knees, I scrambled around Death, back toward the body. I don’t know why, but instinct had me moving toward it.

“Come back, come back, little carrion bird,” Death crooned at me, jerking his blade free of the ground.

Back at the body, I ignored the revulsion at touching dead flesh as I searched for, I don’t know, _something_ that I could use to defend myself.

Hearing Death come up behind me and laughing again, knowing he had me caught, my hand closed around what I had been instinctively searching for and I swung around just in time to catch the downward swing with the flat of the blade I now held.

Death’s eyes narrowed. “You best put that down, knife-ears, lest you stick yourself with the wrong end.”

I grinned then, viciously, fear and panic filling me with adrenaline. “Bite me,” I said, using my legs as leverage to help me push his blade up and away.

Death watched me stand and take a stance, holding the blade in front of me with one hand, body angled. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously, now seeing me as a credible threat.

“So the pig of an elf thinks she can wield a blade,” he taunted, holding his own blade steady. “I could never have guessed with how much your gut protrudes.”

The sounds of the battle behind me faded away, my concentration now focused on the opponent in front of me. He was taller than me, which meant a longer reach. He was also more physically fit, which meant he would be faster than me as well. With his height and strength, he could easily overwhelm me. That is what he would be thinking, even with my little show of leveraging away his blade with ease.

It was something I had often used in my fencing bouts, the assumption. Short and fat, I couldn’t _possibly_ outmaneuver a taller, more athletic opponent.

Death lunged forward, sword raised in both hands for an overhead slash. A foolish move.

I leapt back, sword arm swinging the blade up, catching the downward slash, and deftly knocked it to the side and away from me.

Death’s momentum kept him moving and our shoulders collided as his body moved in the path of his sword.

The blow spun me around and I cried out in pain, reflexively bringing a hand up to clutch at my shoulder.

“Bitch!” Death snarled, already recovering.

Gritting my teeth, I brought my blade up in time to parry another slash from his blade.

_Clang, clang, clang_.

With every parry, he forced me to give up ground. The blow to my shoulder earlier hampered my movements, just barely keeping me from being sliced to bits. The pain and lost ground was starting to boil in my veins, my competitiveness rearing its head.

“Enough!” I screamed, forcing his blade away with more strength than I’d been using. The scream distracted him as his blade slid past me once again.

I went on the offensive.

I ducked low and _thrust_ the sword forward, my back leg kicking off my lunge with all the strength I could muster.

Death’s eyes went wide and he dodged to the side, the sharp tip of my blade sliding past him. The blue surcoat gaped open at the side, neatly sliced where my blade had passed.

“Shit,” I heard him say just before I pressed him with another attack, coming in close with a slice instead of a thrust.

He went on the defensive, startled by the gap between my appearance and my aggression. However, it wasn’t long before he recovered from the shock and began meeting my blade with his, the force of his blows resonating down my arm.

Panting, I knew I wouldn’t last long at the level we were fighting. I had to do something to gain the advantage, anything.

I tripped over the corpse’s outstretched arm, the limb rolling under my foot and sending me crashing to the ground, winded as I landed on my back.

Death stood over me, panting as well. “About. Fucking. Time,” he wheezed. “For such a fat elf, you know your way around a sword.” He collapsed to his knees over me, throwing his sword away and pushing mine away as well.

Shit.

Was he…?

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he said, leaning down.

I balled my hands at my sides, tensed my muscles, and threw a punch to the bottom of his ribcage.

Death winced and curled around where I’d punched him, giving me time to get my legs under him and _thrust_ him away, sending him flying off of me.

Wasting no time, I scrambled over and grabbed the nearest sword, turning and bringing the edge of the blade slicing with all my strength where a gorget should have been protecting his neck.

Death gurgled, eyes wide as blood spurted around the blade buried in his unprotected neck.

Horror dawned on me as I let go of the blade still lodged in Death’s neck.

The man tried to say something but all that came out was gurgling and more blood.

He fell forward and I hurriedly backed away on my hands, body trembling and boots sliding in the slick combination of dirt and blood.

I rolled over onto my hands and knees and acid ripped it’s way out of my throat, burning the roof of my mouth as I threw up anything and everything that had been in my stomach.

Crying from the pain and horror, I looked up as sound burst into life. I was still on the edge of the battlefield and all around me were people fighting and dying.

And I had just contributed to the body count.

I got to my feet and looked around, sniffling and hugging myself. The people closest to me were concentrating on the fight, and presumably _not dying,_ a very good distance away.

Taking a deep breath and trying not to choke on the remaining taste of bile, I squatted down and looked around at the bodies at my feet. As much as the flat, lifeless bodies chilled me to the core, I wasn’t going to survive long if the rest of the fighters came at me. Which meant I’d have to get _some_ type of gear.

Just being practical, I told myself over and over, a mantra, as I blinked away the horrified tears and tried not to cringe at the touch of cooling flesh.

The first corpse had a leather backpack. I couldn’t tell what was in it, but I took it anyway. Looking at the two swords that lay nearby, I couldn’t tell which one I could least stand touching. One was covered in the man’s blood, the other in the blood of who knows who else.

Squeezing my eyes shut for a moment and clenching my fists, I steeled my nerves. Looking back at the swords, I grabbed the smallest one, the one I had used already.

Glancing back over my shoulder toward the fighting, I edged back towards the edge of the forest, clutching the hilt of the sword and holding it warily between me and a bunch of people who would kill me if they noticed me.

“Thank fuck,” I breathed as I made it to the dirt pathway I had left. I looked over my shoulder again, checking to see if anybody had noticed me. There were a lot less people and by the looks of it, the ones left over were all from the same group, wearing blue surcoats half stained with blood.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” I panicked, turning around and high tailing it the fuck out of there, running as fast as I could with a bare sword and leather backpack weighing me down.

I got to the bend of the road and instead of turning, ran straight through the brush along the side and leapt over fallen branches, trying not to fall as I ran headlong through unfamiliar territory.

“FUCK!”

I tripped over an outstretched root, falling headfirst on the other side of it, my chest and stomach hitting other roots haphazardly sticking out of the ground. The sword fell from my limp hand.

I wheezed, whimpering with pain. _Fuck,_ that _hurt._

My breath catching, I hefted myself up slowly and looked up at the large tree whose roots I had tripped on. It was easily the largest tree I had ever seen, even larger than the three-hundred year old oak I had once seen in a park.

The roots of the tree were pulled half out of the ground, leaving a large enough hole beneath them that any opportunistic animal could create a den.

Or a human could hide.

Groaning, I struggled to my feet, reaching down to grab the sword once more. I tossed it and the backpack into the hole before looking for some fallen branches, dragging them over and hiding half the entrance as best I could.

I slipped down through the other half, rolling onto my stomach before I started clawing up dirt and pushing it toward the other half of the opening, making it smaller and less noticeable.

I slowed to a stop, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks as I sat back in the hollow, the backpack lumpy against my back.

“Fuck this shit,” I sobbed, lifting the neck of my shirt to hide my face. “What the fuck is even going _on_.”

Overwhelmed, I started crying in earnest, sobbing quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Dragon Age fanfic. Been a longtime fan since the first game but hadn't felt the need to write in the universe until the third game since it was left off at such a gigantic plot twist. I started off just writing this for myself, wanting to see a character I could relate to having to deal with the nitty gritty of the Dragon Age universe. Alana's experiences with anxiety are based on my own personal experiences. However, the more I wrote, the more fleshed out the story became and the more I wanted to share it with others.


	2. Chapter 2

#### Part One: Sorrow

* * *

I jerked awake to an unfortunately familiar sensation, quickly scrubbing my hands through my short hair, picking out the insects that had crawled onto me after I cried myself to sleep.

It took an _embarrassingly_ long time to calm myself down once I was free of the insects. Ah, the joys of hiding underneath the roots of a tree in the dirt.

I coughed and sniffled, eyes feeling just as grimy as my hands did. I could only imagine what manner of shit was covering my hands--in fact, I didn’t even want to imagine.

After scrubbing my palms on the thighs of my jeans, I lifted up my back and pulled the backpack around, blinking in the darkness. I hadn’t really thought about what might be in the backpack I’d taken off the corpse, but now that I was calmer and safer, it was about time I dug through it.

I struggled with the buckles on the outside, narrowing my eyes and trying to see with what little moonlight leaked through the hole above.

“Fuck, can’t see shit,” I muttered aloud, thumping my head back against the dirt wall.

I lay there a moment, eyes closed, frustrated.

“Wait a minute! My phone!”

I sat up and lifted my butt to the side, digging through my jeans pocket and pulling out the phone I had completely forgotten about in my earlier panic.

Pressing a button, I hissed at the blinding light as the screen turned on.

Keeping one eye closed, I unlocked the phone and fumbled around the screen, turning down the brightness until it was tolerable.

I took a moment to look through it but sighed when I saw that there was no signal, wifi or otherwise. I wouldn’t be able to call for help, it looked like. The battery was still good, surprisingly, and I sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

Turning it around, I pulled the backpack close to me once again and used the light to open it up.

I dug through the contents, noting with relief that there was a blanket. I pulled that out and put it aside, rustling through the contents and making note of what it contained. There were several tools, small packets of what looked to be trail rations, an old fashioned waterskin, and a spare set of clothes.

Gleefully, I pulled out the clothes with the thought to change into them. Unfortunately, they were much too small.

I sighed and sat back again, letting everything fall back to my lap. The light of my phone’s screen shut off after a minute, leaving me in darkness.

After a moment, I shoved the clothes back into the backpack, chucking my phone in after, and cinched it closed. Pushing it against the dirt wall, I wrapped myself in the blanket and laid back down.

Staring up at the root and dirt above me, I tried to think.

My vision swam and things blurred. I tried to focus again, to bring myself back to the present so that I could plan on how to get out of this predicament. But no, my vision blurred again, eyes unfocusing as a sort of static filled my head.

I don’t know how long I lay like that, staring into space and wrapped up in a blanket in the hollow beneath a tree’s large root. I felt like I was out of my body, like I wasn’t there. But I knew I was there, beneath that root, wrapped up in that blanket, in a place I don't know, where I killed a man because he had been trying to kill me.

Fuck me, I didn’t even know _why_ he had wanted to kill me.

“Fuck,” I sobbed, fresh tears sliding down my cheeks. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck!”_

I buried my face into the blanket, sobbing into the itchy cloth.

“Why,” I muttered to myself, voice muffled by the cloth. “Why did I wake up here? Where the fuck am I? Did someone just dump me here? Why? I don’t know what I even fucking did, but god fucking _damn it to hell_ , I just want to go home!”

I sobbed louder, my crying drowning out the sounds of the forest and leaving me to my misery.

It wasn’t long before my tears ran out. I was probably dehydrated from the walk and the fight, not to mention the several hours I’d slept in exhaustion.

Sniffling, I unwrapped myself and felt for the bag, hands clumsily opening it back up and feeling in the dark for the waterskin I’d seen earlier.

Pulling it out, I uncorked it and held it to my lips, drinking greedily. Fresh, clean water spilled out, cool and refreshing as it finally washed away the last traces of bile. I drank deep, gulping down the water until I needed to breathe. I panted as I pulled it away. Securing the cork, I shoved it back in.

“Alright,” I said to myself. “I can’t just stay here forever. I need to find someone who can help me get back to, fuck, civilization or something, I don’t know. Just, shit, not fucking here. Not with people who run around with swords trying to kill people.”

The sound of my own voice was calming.

In the dark, I clumsily folded the blanket and shoved it into the backpack. I pushed my arms through the loops and settled it onto my back. Grabbing the sword that had lain forgotten, I got on my knees and crawled out from underneath the root.

Standing outside the hollow, I looked around. Nothing much had changed in the hours I had been hidden. No one had come after me, thank fuck.

Carefully, I picked my way back through the brush, following what I hoped was the trail of broken and snapped vegetation I had made in my mad dash. I was only guessing at this point.

Thankfully, my guess was correct and I found myself on the dirt road once more. Sticking close to the edge of the brush in case I needed to hide in the trees once again, I made my way _back_ to the battlefield.

I had this hope that the remaining soldiers would have finished their business in the field. As Death had accused me of earlier, I had the vague idea of picking through the corpses for anything that could help me survive until I could find a friendly face.

The sounds of the forest were left behind as I stepped foot on the field once more. There were the dying embers of fires in the distance, making the mounds glow ominously. They had burned their dead.

“Shit,” I whispered.

Still, I moved through the field, warily keeping an eye out for signs of movement as I tried to find a forgotten corpse.

Luckily for me, it looked as if the soldiers had only burned _their_ dead, not their enemies. The first few corpses I found were much smaller than me, ears long and pointed. Elves? Or were the ears latex? I moved on.

I looked for the larger corpses. The first one I came to was a larger man, taller than me but not much bigger around. Kneeling next to the cold, lifeless body, I held my breath and did my best to keep from vomiting. The very idea of stealing from a corpse unnerved me, and in better circumstances I’d completely go without.

Survival came first. Even at the expense of my morals.

I gagged while stripping the corpses of bits and pieces of armor as I found them. My hands were shaking badly, the feel of dead flesh anathema to me. “I’m sorry,” I wound up whispering to the dead. “I’m so very sorry, please don’t hate me.” I had to turn away several times to avoid puking.

I had the goal to have a complete set of armor that I could put on over my clothes, but after maybe half an hour I was weighed down with too much metal, half of which I wasn’t even sure would fit me. Pauldrons, vambraces, shin guards, belts, tassets, chestplate, and even a few belt pouches.

I wound up taking another bag, stuffing the smaller bits of armor on top of whatever was in the bag. The chest plate I did my best to affix to my chest. It sat awkwardly, smushing my breasts up in an uncomfortable way.

Sighing in frustration, I dropped the chestplate to the ground and began to search for another.

As I was pulling what I hoped was a better fitting breastplate from a corpse, lights in the distance made me freeze.

I looked up, hands still holding the breastplate as the corpse it had been attached to slumped back to the ground.

In the distance, toward what I remembered looked like a fortress, there were several eerie green and blue fires bobbing and weaving. They were growing larger and I knew then that there were people leaving the fortress and heading to the field.

“Shit, fuck, shit,” I cursed. I tucked the breastplate beneath my arm and darted back toward the dirt road, not even trying to be stealthy as I ran and leapt over corpses and discarded weaponry, clanking all the way.

Back on the dirt road, I ran down the path and back through the brush that I had run through earlier. This time, I slowed down, gasping as I desperately looked for the root that I had made into a little shelter.

It took longer than I thought to find it, but I slid into it gratefully and pulled the branches closer over the hole, shoveling dirt up to fill the spaces between. I backed myself against the dirt wall, heart beating powerfully in my chest as I waited to hear the shouts of pursuers.

All that greeted me were the sounds of the forest at night.

Had I truly made it out of the field a second time without pursuers? Was I truly that lucky in such an unlucky situation?

Several long minutes passed.

Nothing.

I breathed a sigh of relief and sagged against the dirt wall.

Safe.

For now.

After calming down, I pulled my phone out and began to sort out the things I had managed to salvage from the dead.

The armor was mismatched, bits of leather and metal mixed with each other. Some were stained with blood, others scratched and/or dented. After trying them on, I decided that they would have to do. The breastplate, of fucking course, did not fit. I shoved it to the other side of the hole and left the other armor on, worried that I wouldn’t have time to pull it on later when I needed it. Of course, with the cramped space of the little hollow, it had been awkward putting the gear on. But I felt more secure. Security over comfort.

I looked through the second bag that I had taken and smiled happily when I found another waterskin and more wrapped packages that looked like rations. There was also another blanket, thank fuck, and another set of clothes. If only I had--

“Yes!” I whispered gleefully, opening a small pouch to find a sewing kit. If I could get enough fabric from the two sets of clothing, I would be able to cobble together an extra set of clothes for me to change into.

Combining the new gear with the old gear I’d scavenged earlier, I decided that I’d had enough for the night. I wrapped myself in one of the blankets and rolled the other one up to use as a pillow. I shoved the two bags closer to the entrance in the hollow to make a barricade between me and potential discovery.

Feeling safer, I laid down, covered my head with a bit of blanket, and willed myself to sleep.

I knew I was dreaming. I knew it as I stared in wonder at the lush scenery before me. I stood in the middle of a meadow, greener than I had ever seen, emerald grasses and flowers of all shapes and colors. At the edge of the meadow stood trees taller than I could even imagine, yet somehow the meadow was brightly lit and peaceful.

I spun around, taking in the scenery and feeling at peace. Possibly for the first time ever.

Smiling bitterly, tears already forming in my eyes, I laid down in the grass and stared up at the bright blue sky.

Clouds passed over, shifting and formless as clouds can be, but always white and fluffy.

I don’t know how long I lay like that before I somehow sensed something at the edge of the meadow.

I sat up, frowning as I looked around.

My breath hitched as I spotted something that stood just beyond the ring of trees. It _loomed_ , impossibly tall, impossibly dark, a void that my eyes tried to tell me couldn’t be there.

And yet, somehow, I wasn’t afraid of whatever it was. The monstrosity should’ve had me panicking, in all honesty. But I wasn’t panicking, not even a little anxious. It was...a very weird sensation.

I stood and took a step towards the creature. The treeline remained the same distance away. I took another step, and another, and still another. The treeline remained stubbornly the same distance away, even when I broke out running. It seemed that I was not meant to reach the looming shadow.

I stopped running, not even a little winded, and just stood there.

“Who are you?” I asked. “Why aren’t I afraid of you?”

I couldn’t hear a reply and the figure remained stationary.

I frowned. “But I’m always afraid,” I pointed out, talking to myself. “I am literally _always_ afraid. Of people, of things, of shit I can’t control. But I’m not afraid of you. That’s...that’s really fucking weird.”

I got the odd feeling that it’s head bowed.

Giving up, I laid back down and looked back up at the sky.

I got another odd feeling, a strange sensation, that it was wondering what I was doing.

“I’m laying down,” I said aloud. “And thinking...that this is a very good dream. It’s the calmest I’ve ever felt.” I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. “God, what I wouldn’t give for a medication that could calm me like this in the real world.”

A shadow passed over me. I opened my eyes, squinting at the shadow that loomed above me, silhouetted by the bright sky.

A hand pressed against my eyes, covering my vision. But I was not afraid, just curious. “Sleep without fear,” a voice spoke.

I slept then, dreamlessly.

The heavy, rhythmic sound of pounding bootsteps woke me this time. It was not far off, probably on the dirt road.

I shivered beneath my blanket, groaning softly at the aches in my legs and back. I had the dirt hollow to thank for that.

Sitting up as much as I could, I gingerly moved an arm outside of my damp blanket and brushed aside one of the branches. I couldn’t see a damned thing, which was honestly terrific news. I could hear the marching but I couldn’t see it, which meant they couldn’t see me.

Relieved, I sat back against the dirt wall and pulled the two bags closer. I had enough light through the branches covering the hollow, might as well make use of it.

Once again, I took stock of what I had managed to scavenge, pretty pleased with myself with the set of armor I had managed to piece together. In each of the two bags I had sets of tools, amongst other things.

In the light of day, I took out the pouch of tools and looked at them closer. I smiled, noting that there were two sturdy daggers. Nice. I set those aside, thinking that I could keep them out of the bags. There were also hammers, little mini hand shovels--spades, I remember my mother calling them. There were also two sets of fire starters, and two...rocks?

I thought about what could possibly be in the bags of soldiers. Whetstones, maybe? They would have to keep their bladed weapons sharp.

That was it for the tools, save for what looked to be a shaving kit. I didn’t know if I’d need it, considering I didn’t grow facial hair. Maybe I could sell it if I reached civilization?

The thought of selling dead men’s belongings made me feel queasy, so I stopped that line of thinking there.

I dug through the packs again and took out a waterskin and one of the wrapped packages, gingerly opening it.

“Yes!” I whispered with delight.

The package contained exactly what I had hoped, food! Inside was some sort of thick cracker, a bit of cheese, dried fruit, and dried meat. Definitely trail rations!

I picked up the cracker and bit into it, immediately coughing at how dry it was. I choked and tried to control my coughing, anxious that the marching soldiers would hear me over the sound of their feet.

Uncorking the waterskin, I took a swig of water and swallowed the dry cracker, throat and chest hurting from the contained coughing.

It wasn’t _bad_ tasting, but it sure as hell didn’t have much of a taste. Nibbling at the dried meat, I eyed the cheese and dried fruit. I was not a fan of cheese on a good day and this was as far from a good day as you could get. But until I could reach civilization and _real_ food, this trail stuff would have to do.

I forced myself to eat the rest of the food, washing it down with big gulps of water whenever it felt like my stomach was going to rebel against the strange food. I folded the wrapper and shoved it back into the bag. Reduce, reuse, and recycle, as the saying goes.

The marching was still going on by the time I had figured out how to clear off the blankets and get them folded neatly enough to pack. I couldn’t begin to imagine just how many soldiers had passed by already. The battle from yesterday hadn’t looked that big.

Being reminded of the day before made my mood plummet immediately.

I had killed a man.

Sure, he had been trying to kill me, at first. And maybe towards the end he had gotten heated up and intended to, uhm. Well. I wasn’t going to think about it. Suffice to say, he’d had to be stopped by something, and it was unfortunate that it was his own death that had stopped him.

The guilt still ate at me. His blood was on my hands--quite literally, I saw when I looked down at my hands in the light of day. They were trembling and I held them together, knuckles going white from how hard I was clenching them. The dried blood stood out in stark contrast against my pale skin.

When the shaking wouldn’t stop, I just got out one of the waterskins, opened it up, and scrubbed my hands as best I could.

In stories, the heroes never really thought about the lives they took. It was just another death in a countless series of battles to achieve a goal.

But this wasn’t a story and I was no hero.

I had taken a man’s life.

That was not something I was going to get over anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos. I'm glad people are enjoying Alana's first steps into Thedas. Not that she realizes it at this point! This past week, I kept excitedly thinking about what I was going to write next and whether this idea or that idea would break Alana's motivation. I'm quite a bit ahead as of this chapter, so I'm using my excitement to keep the inspiration rolling. As long as I've written ahead, I'll be uploading chapters once a week. So please look forward to next week's chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

#### Part One: Sorrow

* * *

It felt like several agonizing hours later before the marching finally faded away and I was certain that they were gone for good. Accustomed as I was to distractions and entertainment whenever I wanted, it was _very_ boring. I didn’t dare use my phone for fear of draining the battery. After checking the time, I had immediately turned it off and stuffed it deep into one of the packs.

After a while, the anxiety of the marching so close to my little shelter made me feel exhausted. I was tempted to go back to sleep, if only to pass the time.

But thankfully, the troops were gone and I felt safe enough to exit my shelter. As crazy as it sounded, I was going to try getting into the fort I saw yesterday.

That was the plan, anyway.

Shouldering the two bags, I picked up my sword and held it in my hand. I didn’t have a sheath or a frog strap thing that could hold it. In my haste last night, I hadn’t bothered to look for one. If the corpses were still there, I’d try looking for one. Even if I had to brave the stench of rotting death.

Keeping the sword in my hand, I crept back through the brush and trees to the road. I was tense, worried that there were still soldiers that had lagged behind the rest.

All I saw was trampled dirt.

Heaving a sigh of relief, I made my way back towards the field. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to make a mad dash back. I was tired of hiding in the dirt; it was uncomfortable and full of bugs.

Laden down as I was, it took me a little longer than it had yesterday to make it back to the field. Even so, I wasn’t going to abandon any of the gear I’d scavenged. As long as people were going to be trying to kill me on sight, I was going to keep on as much armor as I could stand to wear.

The battlefield was woefully empty, piles of ash and broken weaponry sticking out of them dotting the landscape. I guess the lights I’d seen yesterday were the soldiers coming out to burn the bodies of their enemies. Just my fucking luck.

I didn’t bother poking my sword into the piles. Whatever hadn’t burnt up with the bodies would be useless to me. My hope now lay in the fort.

Trying to keep my anxiety under control, I stuck to the perimeter of the field as I headed toward the stone building in the distance. A wind picked up and I scrunched up my nose. The smell of blood and burnt skin and hair. An absolutely _lovely_ combination, I thought sarcastically. I tugged up the neck of my shirt and pressed it to my nose and mouth, hoping to keep out the worst of the smells. It helped a little.

By the time I had finished crossing the field, the wind had died down, leaving behind oppressive heat. As the day progressed, no doubt the smells would worsen. I was glad to be away from it.

The field of grass gave way to flattened earth. There were some broken wooden fences sticking up here and there. Old farmland? From what I knew of history, it made sense that there would be farmland surrounding a fortress. During times of attack, the farmers and villagers would run into the walls of the castle or fort to weather the attack. During times of peace, the farms would keep the fort or castle well stocked with foodstuffs.

It was all supposition, though. For all I knew, the fort had been built over old farmland that had been seized from poor farmers. I honestly would not put it past some people in power.

During my entire walk to the fort, I didn’t see anyone or anything that would make me think the fort was occupied. Then again, they could be keeping their animals and supplies within the fort walls.

With mixed feelings, I began walking along the fort walls to find an entrance, only to come up short as I rounded one corner.

Half the stone wall lay crumbled on the ground, broken into individual stones or large sections barely held together by mortar. This fort was not as secure a building as I thought it was.

Picking my way over the large stones, boulders really, I kept my eyes out for any sign of people. From what I could see inside the fort proper, there were a few squat buildings of stone and wood. Most of them were as decrepit as the walls, so I could hardly imagine people living here permanently.

Still, I explored carefully, blade held carefully in front in case of surprise attack. I found no one and heard nothing. I couldn’t decide if I was thankful or frustrated. I entered one of the intact buildings, the largest one of the set, and waited at the entrance while my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.

It looked like a meeting hall, or a feasting hall. Something along those lines. A place that was meant to hold a large amount of people for multiple purposes. There was a large hearth halfway down the room, no fire or embers burning inside. Wooden chairs were strewn about, some gathered around wooden tables while others bunched together in a somewhat circular shape.

I moved to the end of the hall and peered at the raised bit of floor. A dais, maybe? There was no chair, at least. Just a table. Looking down at the wood, I frowned and laid my sword on the table so that I could get closer to the parchment that lay on it.

A map.

A map?

A map!

I hurriedly rounded the table and bent down to see the details, eyes scanning the drawings for any familiar landmarks I could use to navigate myself to the nearest city.

Only… Well. I did recognize quite a number of landmarks. By all rights, the landmarks on this map shouldn’t exist.

I stumbled back from the table, realization dawning on me as I thought back to the blue surcoats, the ‘prosthetic’ elf ears, the insults that soldier had thrown at me. And now this map.

My back met the stone wall and I slid to the floor with a thump, eyes wide and unseeing.

Every fibre of my being fought against the very thought. It couldn’t be true, it was impossible! People weren’t suddenly transported to another dimension where a _video game_ was real!

I ran a trembling hand through my hair, mouth working silently.

It was impossible, but after everything I had experienced within the last 24 hours, how could I not believe it?

Thedas.

I had somehow wound up in Thedas.

Dear god, please let me be wrong.

  
  


I took the time to pull myself together instead of breaking down then and there. I’d had _way_ too many breakdowns lately. I didn’t have the luxury of being able to break down and recover from all the bullshit. My very survival was on the line here!

You’d think that winding up in a fantasy universe where magic and elves were real would be a fantastic experience. The reality of it was the complete opposite. If I’d come here and had magic, or was in the care of a worldly adviser, it might be fun. But no, I had to be dumped in the middle of bumfuck nowhere with nothing to help me but my wits and skills borne of an idle interest in swordplay. Fuck me.

The anger was refreshing. I let it wash through me, burning away the fear and anxiety. Anger was good. It meant I was motivated.

I stood and looked over the map once more. From what I could tell, I was in Ferelden, somewhere in the Brecilian Forest. If I could figure out north from south, I could try making my way to Denerim. I wasn’t quite sure what I would find there since I didn’t know the timeframe I had landed in. For all I knew it was hundreds of years before the games took place. Or even afterward.

I carefully folded the map and tucked it safely away into one of my packs, hidden in the set of clothes. Later, I would try climbing to the top of the fortress walls to see if I could tell which direction I was supposed to head in according to the map. Once I had a reference point, I’d be able to follow the map.

I didn’t know how long it would take to get to Denerim on foot, though. It could be a week, it could be a month. With my fitness level and weight, I was betting on a month. Which meant that I would have to figure out where to get food and water to last me that long. No way in hell was I going to die of starvation or dehydration in a video game world. Or by illness from unsafe water, for that matter.

So thinking, I explored further, looking for a kitchen that I hoped would have a small pot or something I could use to boil water in. It would be extra weight, for sure, but a slowed pace was better than dying of dysentery.

Thankfully, there was a kitchen! At least it was what looked like a medieval kitchen to me. What took center stage was a large brick oven looking contraption. A place to bake bread, maybe? Next to it was a hearth (though not as large as the one in the main hall) where a swinging arm was stuck on one side. A way of putting a cauldron of water on to boil, I think. On the other side was a large metal stove.

The rest of the space was taken up by a couple wooden tables, a large wooden basin, and a wooden cabinet. I checked the wooden cabinet and found it mostly empty except for a few sacks of a powdery substance. Flour, I hoped. Next I checked the basin, which was sadly empty. On one of the smaller tables was the pot I was looking for, a small thing but hefty with a lid and a handle. I lifted it up and grunted at the weight. This was going to be murder on my back.

Fuck it! Clean water was more important than the aches and pains!

That’s what I told myself as I hauled the pot back to where I had left my packs. Once I was sure it was secure to the heaviest pack, I returned to the kitchen and continued my exploration from there.

The former occupants of the fort had taken most of the good stuff, I thought. Or maybe there hadn’t been any good stuff to begin with and there had just been things the soldiers had brought themselves.

Odd that they’d left the map, though. Maybe they had multiple maps? I sure hoped they wouldn’t come back for it. I needed that map to find civilization.

On the second floor, I wound up finding a good sized room that locked from the inside with a key and had a bed. What glorious luck! I tested the mattress and found it soft and plush. It didn’t feel like anything I’d experienced at home, but it was better than the cold hard ground. I dragged my supplies up to the room and shut the door, using the key to lock it.

I made up my mind to stay there a few days to consolidate my supplies into one bag and see if I could cobble the two sets of clothes together to make one set that fit me. I could also use the time to take stock of exactly how much food I had and how much water I could drink from the two waterskins before I’d need to refill them.

I think it was the best idea I’d had since I woke up in the forest.

Which could only mean something bad was about to happen, knowing my luck.

Or maybe that was the anxiety talking again.

Pushing the negative thoughts away, I moved to the fireplace on the far wall. I would need light and warmth once the sun set. Last night had been cold and miserable and I was not doing that again. At least not until I had to.

There were a few logs piled in a metal holder next to the fireplace. Testing them to make sure they weren’t damp, I moved one of the larger ones into the fireplace itself. A stray thought had me getting on my knees and craning my head to look inside the chimney. There was what looked to be a metal plate blocking it off.

Straining, I reached up and pressed my fingertips to the metal plate, sighing in relief when the slats turned and opened up the rest of the chimney. Light streamed in, so I took that to mean there was no blockages from the outside. I would not be playing a chimney sweep today, thank goodness.

Once I had the fireplace set for later, I opened up the only window in the room and let in more natural light. It was still rather dingy and dark inside, but it was much better than before.

After removing my armor, I spent the rest of the day messing with the two sets of clothing. I wound up ‘cannibalizing’ one set for the extra fabric so that I could make the other set large enough to fit me.

I had no idea how long I’d be in this situation. If this world really was Thedas, I wouldn’t be able to just find civilization and buy some new clothes. I needed to fit in with the crowds. Survival was key. In order to survive, I had to lay low and not draw attention. In order to do that, I needed to blend in. And in order to blend in, I needed clothes that looked the part. I couldn’t do anything about my boots, though. Maybe if I wrapped them in clothing scraps?

My growling stomach distracted me from my sewing, so I took the time to choke down one of the crackers before getting back to it. By the time the sun began to set, I was halfway done with a top.

Setting my project aside, I stood up and stretched, popping my stiff joints. Sitting for so long bent over was painful. In the dying light, I worked through a few stretching exercises I’d learned when I first began fencing. The stretching felt wonderful on my aching muscles, particularly my thighs and arms. They had been doing the most work during my battle yesterday.

The sudden reminder of what I had done yesterday brought me to a quick stop. I had really done it. I had really killed a man. Shit.

My chest began to ache again with the budding panic.

I distracted myself by preparing the room for the night, closing the window and lighting the fireplace. Admittedly, it took me way too long to figure out how to get the log to catch fire, even with the firestarter. With the fire going nicely, I tugged the top mattress off the bed and dragged it closer to the fireplace. Pulling out the two blankets, I laid one out on the mattress. Using the old sheet that had been covering the bed, I balled it up and stuffed it under the first blanket as a pillow. My other blanket I’d be using as an actual blanket.

By the time I was done, the sun had set completely, leaving only the fireplace for light.

I stood looking down at the bed and felt restless.

I wasn’t used to going to bed so early, just after the sun had set. Artificial lighting was a wonderful invention.

Still, I _was_ exhausted. Emotionally, mentally. Physically. Yet I was still restless.

I walked about the room and tried to think of what I could do to help me calm down enough to sleep. There wasn’t much to the room: the bed I had taken the mattress from; a small table at which sat a stool, probably a vanity without the mirror; and a chest at the foot of the bed that I had tried opening earlier only to find it locked.

I took out one of the knives and sat down next to the chest. Frustrating myself trying to open it would surely help my restless feelings, I thought.

I think I underestimated the age of the chest, however. With the knife, it didn’t take me long to break the lock away from the softened wood. I could now push back the lid without having to undo the lock--the lid just lifted with the bottom half of the lock.

With a wry grin, I dug into the mysterious chest and began to pull out the formerly hidden items.

There were two other blankets, these much finer than the scratchy ones I had. Unfortunately, they were chewed up in places. Were mothballs a thing in Thedas? Maybe I could use the extra fabric...

The next few items I pulled out made me grin at my lucky find. There was a leather breastplate that looked big enough to fit me, a gorget, and a loop of leather with a metal ring on one side of it--a sword frog! There were a few more pieces of armor, but they were metal and too small for me to use. At the very bottom of the chest, beneath a false bottom, I found a leather bag of coins and gemstones.

I didn’t bother counting the coins. I saw more than a few silver coins and a bunch of coppers. They would work wonderfully once I made it to Denerim--if I could figure out how expensive food and lodging was outside of what I remembered from the first game. All I could remember was from the last game and those were the cost of materials to create armor and weapons and everything was priced in gold.

With a sigh, I took my newfound gains and brought them over to where I had left my packs. More stuff to go through.

As I stood up from the packs, I looked at the wall and saw a mirror. I was taken aback for a moment; I hadn’t noticed it there when I first explored the room. Curious, I moved closer to it, reaching out a hand to touch it’s cold surface. It wasn’t like the mirrors I was used to--maybe it was polished metal?

My face looked back at me, only slightly warped by the age of the mirror. Tilting my face, I reached up with my other hand and felt along the ridge of my ear, fingertips caressing the little silver hoops that ran from lobe to pointed tip.

I had been born with pointed ears. Stahl’s ear, it was called. My mom had considered them cute and decided against surgery. My classmates had been merciless in their teasing, often comparing me to Santa’s elves or, later on, those infamous house elves. No matter how much I begged her, my mom had refused to let me get them surgically corrected. Instead, she took me to get my ears pierced. I mean, I had been wanting pierced ears like other girls in my grade, but it was more to appear normal like them. But up until I had complained about the pointed tips, my mom had refused to let me get them pierced.

In a way, getting the ear piercings helped me come to terms with the deformity. Much later on, I began to receive compliments on them, and questions if I had gotten my ears modified to look like an elf’s. As an adult, they were suddenly more beautiful and attractive.

My ears were the only beautiful thing about me. I kept my dark hair short to emphasize them, to draw away attention from the rest of my face.

My cheekbones were too high, face too rounded, dark eyes too narrow and heavy lidded. My mouth was okay, I used to think, up until my first girlfriend told me she liked my ‘dick-sucking lips.’ I’d begun to hate my mouth after that.

This was the face of an elf in Thedas, wasn’t it? With my pointed ears, I could never pass for human. Fuck me, I’d have to deal with the racism against elves, wouldn’t I?

My feelings of restlessness were now gone, replaced by a kind of depressed lethargy. I needed to be able to survive in this world, but it looked like I’d have to do it on hard mode.

I stepped away from the mirror, crawled onto the mattress, and pulled the blanket up and over my head. Even though I was fighting for survival, at that moment, I honestly did not want to wake up in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! A couple important things about this chapter--Alana finds out for the first time where she is, and we get a look at her looks.
> 
> I once had a classmate who had Stahl's ear when I was a kid and I thought it was the absolute coolest thing ever. I didn't know what it was called, I just knew that it was possible. After doing some research, I finally found out what it is and was happy that I would be able to incorporate it into my story. While the pictures I could find of Stahl's ear did not show the length to which a Thedas elf's ear could get, the shape is undeniable in this world.


	4. Chapter 4

#### Part One: Sorrow

* * *

I spent the next two days getting my gear together. It took longer than I’d thought because I was fighting against a depressive lethargy. When I had woken up that second morning still in the same situation, the weight of it all had threatened to crush me. I was not some skilled survivalist that could seamlessly find themselves in a medieval fantasy world and just be a-okay with it. I was a city girl! The only times I had gone camping had been with dozens of conveniences that made it a fun trip rather than necessary for survival.

It was hard, but knowing that I couldn’t stay there forever, holed up in that room, spurred me on. I’d finished the extra clothes and had changed into them, smiling ruefully at the ill-fitting mess. They were obviously cobbled together, but at the very least they wouldn’t make me stick out like my normal clothes would.

There was nothing I could do about my boots, so I wound up tearing up the moth-eaten blankets to use as a belt/sash and the rest to wrap around my boots and lower legs. They looked a little off since they were a finer material than the rest of the outfit, but knowing my luck, they’d get dirtied up soon enough and look right at home.

Clothes taken care of, I carefully folded mine away and buried them at the bottom of the largest pack. My phone, which still somehow had a good amount of battery left when I checked it, I switched back off and hid with my clothes.

Next, I’d ventured beyond the room and explored the rest of the fort, looting what I could find in the other buildings. There weren’t very many valuable or useful items, unfortunately. Still. Since I’d had nothing to start from, I couldn’t just overlook anything. I needed to be absolutely sure that I didn’t need or couldn’t carry other stuff.

During the latter half of the first full day at the fort, I’d managed to find a staircase leading to the top of the walls. The fort had a good vantage on the surrounding forest but I couldn’t see much more than the treetops. Bummed about not being able to find a reference point, I waited until sunset. I figured that I’d at least find out which direction was west and go from there.

The second day at the fort I spent working in the kitchen. Back when I’d had an obsession with ‘how to survive’ books, I remembered reading and trying a recipe for making hard tack.

I couldn’t just keep eating the rations that had come with the packs. I didn’t know how long it would take me to reach Denerim. If I couldn’t find any villages along the way and buy food, I’d be fucked. After a couple of burnt batches, I managed to figure out how to use the stone oven and created enough hard tack to last me two weeks if I ate one piece per meal.

That, unfortunately, wasn’t going to be enough for me. I needed protein and fats. I wouldn’t be able to survive on carbs alone.

Fuck, I’d have to go hunting, wouldn’t I?

I’d never killed an animal before, let alone butchered it.

I could just hear the laughter of a million FFA kids now, knowing just how much easier they’d have it being thrown into a medieval fantasy world.

Fuck them.

I used the rest of that day looking through the kitchen gardens and pulling at the plants I found there. I recognized rosemary right off the bat, having grown up with a large rosemary bush right outside my front door. The others I wasn’t quite so sure of, but I eventually managed to recognize mint and sage. I gathered as much of the herbs as I could handle, dragging them all back into the kitchen to try drying them in the brick oven. There was still enough heat left in it that I was able to dry them. Lucky me, I could use the herbs to season soups or make tea later on. If I could remember how to make herbal tea, that is.

  
  


The last night I spent at the fort, I found myself dreaming.

The place I found myself in was odd, but as is the way of dreams, I dismissed it as being normal. Stone pathways spiraled out all around me, some climbing high into the sky while others burrowed deep into the ground. An odd green fog shrouded the distance, diffusing the light so I could not tell what direction the sun was shining.

I stood at the crossroads of these stone paths wearing my normal clothes, phone in hand and screen glowing.

“This is my choice,” I whispered aloud, not understanding why I needed to speak these words out loud. “I choose where I go, who I become.”

I looked down one path and saw a silhouette of a person. I couldn’t make out any details so I had no idea who it could be.

Down another path was another silhouette, larger than the first with telltale horns curling from the sides of the head.

Down yet another path was a short, stocky figure.

“Choose...who I want to be.”

I let out a slow breath and sat down on the ground.

This was supposedly a very important decision. Which path should I take? Which silhouette should I choose?

Why should I choose when I didn’t even know why I had to make a choice? I hated these sorts of questions. There was no context, no explanation. Just, ‘choose.’ In my experience, no choice would ever be the correct one; I’d be damned no matter what I picked because it would be a trap.

Angry, I stood and shouted, “I choose to be myself!”

My voice somehow echoed into the fog, a rumbling undercutting the shout. The rumble grew louder and louder until I felt the ground shaking beneath my feet.

A loud gong began to sound, resonating painfully in my head and chest. I dropped my phone, clutching at my chest and head as the gong continued to sound. I fell to the ground, the pain and shaking earth robbing me of my equilibrium.

On the ground, I gasped for breath and began crawling. To where, I didn’t know. All I knew was that I needed to _escape_ the noise and pain.

Vision half blurred, I found myself at the edge of the crossroads where there was no path. Beyond the edge was just that green fog. An endless drop could be waiting below, or far enough that I would undoubtedly die on impact.

The gong began to grow in intensity and I swore my ears began to bleed.

A swift death was better than one wracked by pain.

I rolled off the edge of the crossroads and fell into the green abyss.

I woke abruptly, gasping for breath.

A dream.

It was just a dream.

A damned falling dream.

Fuck.

It was barely light outside, but I got ready anyway. With my mismatched armor securely on, I felt safer and more...I don’t know, more at home, maybe? I felt like I wouldn’t stand out as much in this getup. There was nothing I could do about the silver rings in my ears, though.

After packing my blankets and cinching the pack closed, I hoisted it onto my shoulders and grunted. It was heavier than anything I’d ever carried during my school days, even _with_ all my textbooks in my backpack.

I wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all. If someone had dropped my sorry ass here, they should have at least given me more strength so I could carry everything no problem.

But, there was no use crying now. I couldn’t stay here forever--those soldiers in blue might return any day, and I have no doubt that they would not look kindly on someone who had made themselves at home in their fort.

“Okay,” I panted. “Okay. I got this. I. Got. This.”

I was already winded by the time I got down to the first floor, my legs aching with the strain of keeping upright. This wasn’t going to work.

No! It _had_ to work! I was going to survive, even if I had to wear myself out to do so! Survival was top priority until I could find a way home.

One foot in front of the other.

With determination, I made my way out of the fort and across the field. Back on the forest path, I wound up following the trail left by the soldiers two days earlier. After figuring out the direction of the setting sun, I figured that my best route out of the Brecilian Forest was actually by following the same dirt road I’d found myself on that first day.

I wondered as I plodded along, if I had chosen the opposite direction that first day, would I have found anything? Food, water, weapons. If I hadn’t come across the battle that first day, would I have been alright?

No use crying over spilled milk, or something like that. It happened, I picked a direction, and now I had supplies to last me several days while I tried to find civilization.

I walked for several hours, stopping every now and then to take a swig of water from one of the skins. When my stomach rumbled from hunger, I hate a piece of hard tack and cheese, swallowing the latter down with a grimace. I would never like the taste or consistency of cheese.

It was probably around midday when I finally gave up and turned off the road to find a place to camp for the night. I was exhausted, my feet felt like they were bleeding, and there was no way in hell I was going to be able to continue on at the pace I was setting. 

I managed to find another half uprooted tree a ways into the treeline. Using the spade from my pack, I dug it out further until my arms ached. Pushing my pack and belt into the hollow, I rested there for a moment. I still needed to get the rest of my camp set up before I could truly rest.

Standing back up from the dirt with a groan, I moved around the little area in search of dry branches and leaves. Half of it I would use to hide my shelter and protect it from the elements, the other half I’d use to build a small fire. Of course, stones would come in real handy if I could find any, but the closest ones were way too big for my purpose.

Once I had enough branches and leaves, I used the spade again to dig a pit next to my shelter. I was hoping that by digging down, the dirt walls would act as a kind of firebreak. Didn’t want to set my shelter on fire.

The fire started easily enough thanks to the firestarter I had kept with me. It was a little too hot wearing full armor next to it, but damned if I was gonna strip it off.

I rested a bit and then set about propping up my copper pot with a few sturdy branches over the fire. With some water from my waterskins and a bit of dried meat and cheese pieced up, I soon had a weird kind of soup bubbling. Worried about the taste, I added in a bit of rosemary. Come hell or high water, I’d still wind up eating it.

That first night camping out with my new gear, the food tasted pretty bad, but I ate it anyway. The soup filled me up and left me with a warm belly. Using a hard tack, I cleaned out the pot as best I could and set it aside.

I let the fire burn itself out as I just sat there, waiting for time to pass. I was exhausted and should get some sleep, but I was still restless. Ah, if only I could listen to music, or watch a video from my favorite gamer. That would surely pass the time. Or, hell, even a book would have been better than just this sitting around staring at nothing with only my thoughts to keep me company.

Frustrated at my own need for constant entertainment, I kicked dirt over the fire to make sure it was really out before getting up and walking a little ways away from my campsite, trusty spade in hand. The thing about camping that I hated the most was the lack of a bathroom. Right now, I’d give anything for some toilet paper and the dignity of a standing toilet.

Relieved, I made sure it was buried good and well before heading back, tossing the spade near the campfire, and crawling into the shelter I’d made. The earth was cool beneath the blanket I had laid out in it. With the branches blocking out the sunlight from above, I wrapped myself up in the second blanket and tried to get myself some shuteye.

The next few days went in a similar fashion, with the added benefit of waking up cold and stiff from sleeping in the dirt. I walked as far as I could tolerate before stopping and setting up a campsite off the dirt road. I was worried about how low my water levels were getting, even after replenishing my waterskins with riverwater I had boiled within an inch of its life. It was hell getting the water into the skins without burning myself, but in the end I succeeded.

I was at least hoping I’d come across another river by the end of my third day, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to make soup that evening.

Pausing on the road, I got out my last waterskin to take a drink, sighing as I felt how light it was. Maybe I was drinking too much water? I remembered reading that when it came to water, you shouldn’t ration it and just drink it whenever you were thirsty. That’s what I had been doing, but I was beginning to run out.

Corking it back up, I put it back in the pack and continued on. It wasn’t long before I noticed the density of the trees began to lighten and I saw a pathway shooting off. Out of curiosity, I paused at the split and looked down it.

I vaguely recognized this place. I hadn’t played through it very often, but the tattered banners with a flaming sword on them were definitely recognizable. Therinfal Redoubt.

A shudder ran through me at the thought. This had been the location where the red templars and an envy demon had tried to kill the Inquisitor to replace her with a double. Only with the help of templars resistant to red lyrium and the spirit Cole did the Inquisitor make it out alive.

In my playthrough that I had finished, I hadn’t gone to Therinfal Redoubt. I was terrified of what I might find there now. Would the envy demon still be there? Were red templars still lurking there? I didn’t know what year this was. For all I knew, this was still during the initial months of the game. Or even back when the fortress was still occupied by the Seekers of Truth.

Did I dare explore it? I hadn’t encountered anyone since my first day here. I was half afraid that someone would attack me like that blue soldier had. Looking down at my feet, though, I knew I had to go into the fortress, if only to find a well that would undoubtedly be there. I needed fresh water at the very least.

I turned down the split in the road and began the long walk to the main fortress, hoping to high heaven that if there was anyone there, they’d be friendly.

I needn’t have worried. As soon as I walked past the second gate, the eerie silence let me know that there was no one there. There weren’t even any animals in the pen in the courtyard.

A well stood prominently next to the roofed pen and I hurried over to it, thanking my lucky stars that there was a bucket attached to the rope and they both looked decent.

I set up my camp in the pen, too scared to go further into the fortress lest I wake up a demon. I kept forgetting that was a thing I had to be worried about here, aside from people. Demons could and would do everything in their power to corrupt me, preying on my insecurities or hidden desires.

As I pulled up the first bucket of water, I idly wondered what I would do when going toe to toe with a Fear demon. Would I be able to face off against it, or would it easily overwhelm me, using my anxiety and past traumas against me? I hoped the day I fought against such a demon never came.

Even though the little pot could only boil so much water, I debated whether I should use some boiled water to wash myself with or just deal with the water from the well. The several days living in the same clothing with no water to wash myself had taken its toll on me. I felt dirty and grimy. A hot bath would definitely help me to feel a little more human, even if I didn’t have soap.

I thought about it a bit more and said to hell with it. While one pot of water was boiling, I drew up a fresh bucket, undressed, and dumped the water over my head.

“Fuck! That’s cold!”

I pulled up a few more buckets of water and doused myself in them, shivering despite the warm day. Using a bit of the sash I had wrapped around my stomach, I scrubbed at the dirtier parts of me, wishing I had a bar of soap or something that would help. The cobblestones and dirt made a muddy mess by the time I felt I was clean enough. My poor feet.

I wrapped one of my blankets around me and stuffed my tunic into the boiling pot of water. I was hoping the boiling water would help clean it since I didn’t have any detergent.

It did help, a little bit. I stuffed my pants in next, and then my socks, bra, and panties, before laying them all out to dry over the wooden walls of the pen. I looked down at my poor little overused pot and wondered how safe it would be to boil a fresh pot of water and cook soup in it. Would I get the flavor of dirt if I did that?

Just in case, I boiled another pot of water and dumped that out before setting another pot of water to boil. Hopefully it would be clean enough that I wouldn’t get sick.

Thankfully, I didn’t taste anything beyond the herbs I threw in alongside the bits of meat and cheese. My stomach full and happy, I sat by the fire with my blanket wrapped around me, watching the wind in the distance play with the tattered banners.

How far away was the next bit of civilization? I wondered. It would have to be fairly close for the residents of the Redoubt to get supplies from on the regular. As a prominent fortress, it no doubt would have at least one village close by that would either sell or donate supplies to.

I dug into my pack, pulling out the map I had stuffed inside and squinted at the Brecilian Forest before I found Therinfal Redoubt on the map. From what I could tell, there were at least three villages closeby, one to the north, one to the west, and one to the south.

Since I wanted to head towards Denerim, I should head north. Then again, between here and Denerim as the crow flies, there were nothing but villages and mountains. An easier path, for me at least, would be to head west until I could reach the Imperial Highway, especially since there was the town of South Reach on the way.

A town meant that I wouldn’t stick out quite as badly as an elf. Since it always seemed like elves in Thedas were either in towns and cities or wandering with the Dalish, it would probably be safer for me to go that route than just sticking to small villages that would undoubtedly have mostly humans. I hoped then, for a moment, that I could trade or buy passage with a caravan if there was one in South Reach. A town had to have merchants rolling through it on the regular.

Route decided, I folded up the map and stuffed it away again.

I waited until my clothes were dry before I pulled them on again and made my bed for the night. There was no digging here, but the pen had a roof over my head and walls I could put between myself and any casual onlooker.

I holed myself up in one of the more secure pens, laying one blanket out on the old straw, and wrapping myself up in the other one to lay down. Sleep didn’t come as easily as it had the last few days since I had stopped so early, but eventually the boredom won me over and I slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, everyone! Please enjoy the extra chapter this week as my gift to you all!


	5. Chapter 5

#### Part One: Sorrow

* * *

I was barely at the edge of the first village when something sharp hit me square in the side of my head, making me lose my balance and fall over.

“Hahaha! I got the knife-ears!”

Dazed, I sat up, hand pressed to the side of my head to keep the world from spinning. I pulled my hand away and looked down at it, not believing what I saw. Blood. I looked to the side and saw a fair sized rock with a splash of crimson on one side. A rock had hit me in the head and now I was bleeding.

Still dazed, I stood up, now angry beyond belief. A kid was dancing a little ways away, crowing about how he’d ‘hit the knife-ears from twenty feet away.’

“You little piece of fucking shit!” I snarled loudly, advancing on the brat.

The other kids surrounding him shrieked in fear at the sight of me and ran away. The instigator looked up at me with wide eyes, frozen in fear. He hadn’t been expecting me to get angry.

“Are you fucking proud of yourself?” I demanded, looking down at him sternly. I tried to reign in some of the anger--this was a kid, after all. “You threw a rock and injured someone! You don’t fucking do that to people!”

“You’re just a knife-ears!” He said defensively, making as if to spit at me feet. He hunched away when I took a step closer “You’re not people!”

“I don’t fucking care!” I insisted, looming over him. Even if I was shorter than the average human, he was still a kid. “Dwarf, qunari, or elf, you don’t fucking throw things at people.” I shoved my bloody hand at him. “See? You can really hurt people when you do that!”

“Hey, hey, what’s going on here?”

An older woman came rushing over, hands tangled in her apron. She was likely pulled away from some household chore by one of the other kids.

“Nothin’!” The boy immediately said, moving to hide behind her. “I did nothin’! She just started screaming at me!”

The woman balled her fists and put them on her hips, looking at me angrily. “Why are you screaming at my son?” She demanded, trying to loom over me with a stern look. Likely, if I had been an actual elf, I might have been cowed. But I wasn’t from here and even with anxiety, there was no way in hell I was going to stand down when _I_ was the injured party!

“Your son pelted me with a rock,” I said, showing my bloody hand to her. “He hit me in the head and now I’m bleeding!”

She looked taken aback at the accusation, but she paled when she saw the blood I could feel dripping down the side of my face. Turning around swiftly, she caught the young boy by the ear and began smacking him with her other hand about the shoulders. “How many times have I told you? You don’t throw rocks at people!”

“But she’s an elf!” The boy wailed, struggling to get away.

“It don’t matter! Haven’t you been paying any attention to the Chantry sisters?!”

I felt kind of guilty now. The kid was getting his ass beat by his mom in front of a complete stranger, and an elf at that. It was no wonder he was going around and pelting people he didn’t like the look of with rocks. With a mother like this, I’d probably be doing the same thing. Misplaced aggression. The violence with which she hit him seemed way too casual.

Once the kid was crying from the humiliation and pain, his mother let him go and he ran off. She turned back to me with a frustrated look on her face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “He’s a bit of a handful with his dad gone off.”

“Oh, it’s…” It wasn’t okay, and I really shouldn’t dismiss the pain and injury he’d caused me. “Thank you for your apology,” I said instead. “If it wouldn’t be a bother, is there a shop around here?”

She tilted her head in curiosity. “A traveler, then? We have a small tavern that you can rent a room for the night, but not much else. Whatever you need you’ll have to barter for.”

The woman led me further into the village and I could feel the stares of a dozen eyes looking out at me from the dark depths of the homes. I was unsteady on my feet, the pain in my head sharp and making the world spin every few steps. The woman didn’t bother waiting to see if I was keeping up. I forced the nausea away and fought with myself to match my pace to hers.

She led me to what looked like the center of the village, a tall stone rising at the center. It was the only area that wasn’t just pressed dirt; it actually had some cobblestones paving the area. She paused there and turned back to me. “The tavern’s that way.” She pointed to a building directly across from us. A few older men sat outside around a wooden table, eyeing me from behind their mugs.

“Chantry’s that way,” she continued, pointing to her left. “If that’s all you’ll be needing, I need to return home and finish cooking.”

“Yes, that’s fine, thank you,” I managed to get out as she quickly walked past me. I didn’t bother looking over my shoulder to see where she went--the men outside the tavern were starting to whisper to each other while they stared at me. I could see the eyes dipping down to the sword at my waist before they went back to whispering to each other.

This is gonna be fun, I thought sarcastically.

I hiked up my pack and stared forward, ignoring the older men as I walked through the open door into the tavern. It was better lit than I thought it would be, windows from up high in the rafters letting light stream down into the building.

To my left there was a bar counter. In front of me and to the right were more tables where a few more patrons lounged. Not too busy given that it was midday. A good thing, I hoped.

I went up to the bar and leaned my elbows on it, trying to catch the bartender’s attention. It was a man, and he was talking to two women further down the bar. He didn’t seem to be flirting with them, but it certainly looked like an intense conversation. I felt silly waiting for him to be done, but I didn’t want to be rude. I was in a strange place with perfect strangers who already had a bias against elves, and I just happened to look like one.

“Can I help you?”

Jumping a little, I looked up and saw that the bartender had finally noticed me and had come over. “Sorry,” I said. “Sorry. I, uh, was wondering if you had a room I could rent for the night?”

He looked me up and down, an eyebrow quirked. “Can you even pay?”

I grit my teeth. “Yes. I can.”

He looked like he didn’t believe me. “10 copper.”

Reaching down, I wiggled my fingers into one of the belt pouches at my hips and pulled a bunch of coins. I dropped them one by one onto the bartop, all ten. The rest I put away in the pouch.

The bartender swiped up the coins and nodded toward the back of the tavern. “Second door on your left. You pay for dinner separate.”

Looking over my shoulder at the staircase that led deeper into the building, I nodded absently and stepped away from the bar.

I stopped when his hand caught my wrist, tightening around the leather vambrace I had strapped to my arm. “A word of warning,” he said quietly. “There’s no lock on the door. If you don’t want company, better find a way to keep it closed.”

He let my arm go and turned back to the two women at the other end of the bar. I swallowed thickly but didn’t hide the arm he’d touched. I felt too many eyes staring at me.

I walked carefully to the back of the tavern and climbed the stairs, hand against the wall as another wave of vertigo hit me. Shit, I hoped I didn’t have a concussion from that damned kid.

I eventually found the room and like the bartender said, it didn’t have a lock. Pretty much all it had was a knotted rope that served as a doorknob. What it _did_ have, though, was a sturdy looking wardrobe. That’d serve as a way of locking people out of the room.

Dropping the pack on the simple wooden bed, I groaned at the relief from my shoulders. It had almost been two weeks since I woke up in Thedas, if I was counting right. My food supplies were running low and my whole body was aching from the long hours of walking with armor and full pack. I swear, if I had to walk the whole way to Denerim, I would be ripped by the end.

Putting my shoulder to the wardrobe, I managed to move it in front of the door. It was a little loud and obvious, but what the hell, it should help deter any would-be ‘company.’

After that, I stripped off the armor and laid out my blankets. I debated for a moment stripping down to my underwear so I could get some relief from having to constantly wear my bra. If someone tried to get into my room in the middle of the night, I didn’t really want my breasts flopping everywhere while I tried to defend myself. I was relying on the wardrobe, but I also didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

Which reminded me.

I immediately moved back to the wardrobe and flung open the doors, feeling at the back panel and knocking against it, testing it. A solid back, no give when I pushed or tried to slide it. Good. The wardrobe didn’t have a back door to it that people could take advantage of.

Then I remember that the door opened inward, so of course the wardrobe wouldn’t have a back door in it. It wouldn’t be of any use unless the door opened outward.

Pressing a hand to my forehead, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Paranoia was starting to get to me. I was way too jumpy and not thinking clearly. The head wound wasn’t helping any, either.

I tried to remember what to do in the case of a head wound, or in the case of a concussion. The pain was too sharp and the skin between my shoulderblades was jumpy. Concentration was not my strong suit at this moment.

With a sigh, I crawled into the bed and pulled the blanket up and over my head. I knew I should try washing the wound to make sure it wouldn’t get infected, but I was just… I was very _done_ with everything at that point. Just let me fall asleep so I can get some relief from this living hell.

I was abruptly woken by a sharp _thud_ against the door, slightly dulled through the wardrobe. My heart pounded loudly in my chest as I sat up carefully, clutching the blanket to my chest. The room was dark--the sky outside the window opposite the door was black with night.

“Andraste’s tits!” A muffled voice cursed, followed by another thud against the door. “The knife-ear went and blocked the door!”

A laugh answered the first voice. They were both deep and distinctly male. “Hoping to get a taste of that? Some lordling beat you to her!”

“Did you see the belly on her? A pampered pet on the run, more like!”

The two men continued to drunkenly laugh but their voices blessedly faded away.

Fuck.

I took a deep breath and held the blanket to my mouth.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight and fought to keep my breathing under control.

Fuck, I’d almost…

They’d almost…

If I hadn’t blocked the door with the wardrobe…

Fuck.

Shuddering, I laid back down beneath the blanket and curled into a fetal position. My breathing came in quick pants, quiet sobs ringing too loudly in my ears. I squeezed my legs tighter and tighter until my whole body was tensed up. I held myself like that for long minutes, carefully breathing.

Once I had regained some semblance of control, I got up from the bed and stood in front of the wardrobe. I laid my palm on the wood, feeling how solid and firm it was. This wardrobe had saved me, at least for the night.

I didn’t know how things would go in the morning. For all I knew, the rest of the tavern would be waiting for me to exit the room and then they’d be on me in a heartbeat. Even though that mother and the bartender had been kind to me, the bartender’s warning leading me to use the wardrobe, I still didn’t feel safe trusting them. I couldn’t trust anybody here. There was no one to trust…

I needed to escape before the morning.

Hurriedly, I packed my blankets and donned my armor, strapping my belt and sword around my waist securely.

The wardrobe would be too heavy to move silently. From the sounds of it, the tavern patrons were still awake and lively. Outside, though--I moved to the window and looked outside. Beyond the window was a short drop, maybe a story up. The buildings on this side were dark. If I was quiet enough, fleeing this direction would be safest.

I hoisted my pack up and leaned out the window, dangling the pack from one leather strap as far down as I dared. I let it go and it dropped with a thud. I winced and looked back towards the locked door. I waited a few minutes and let out a breath when no one came outside to investigate the noise.

Getting myself out the window was another thing. With my armor and sword on, I couldn’t maneuver as easily. The window itself was a decent size, but I still had to hoist myself up and carefully slip my legs over the sill one at a time. I tried to maneuver myself the best I could, keeping half of my body within the window frame while my legs dangled below.

This was going to hurt.

I dropped, my feet hitting the ground with the full force of my weight combined with the armor I was wearing. The pain was sharp and I dropped to my hands and knees, biting back a cry.

Gritting my teeth, I looked back up at the window and saw how far I had dropped. I cursed my impatience for escape.

I struggled to my feet, wincing at the sharp pain in my shins and knees. There was no time to rest, I had to get out of this village before anyone saw me or tried to get into the room with determination.

I picked up my pack and limped as fast as I could in the opposite direction of the tavern. If there was no dirt road on the other side, I’d just have to keep going until I found a reference point and could re-orient myself using the map. Once it was light out and I was sure no one was following me.

“Fuck people,” I muttered, scrubbing my palm against my wet cheek. “Fuck Thedas. Just, fuck!”

Quietly sobbing, I slowed down to a walk as I came to the outskirts of the village. A little ways to the left of me was a dirt road leading away. I checked my surroundings before making my way to it and hurrying away from the village.

I didn’t like having to travel at night, but my encounters with people here in Thedas were just not going well. The first one tried to kill me, the second hit me with a rock. The third and fourth were kind of nice. And then the fifth and sixth had tried to knock down my door to…

I wasn’t going to think about it.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and rubbed my hands over my face, drying my tears. There was no time for crying, I had to get as far away from the village as possible. Even with my food supplies low, I didn’t dare try and go back. With a village where a kid can excitedly throw a rock at an elf or two drunkards joke about...yeah. There was no way I was staying the night in that village just to get food.

It was a grueling time with my head still hurting and legs now paining me from the drop. The fear that the villagers would be behind me any minute now, torches in hand to find the lone elf in the middle of the night, that fear is what kept me going. The temperature dropped after a few hours and I had to stop to take a blanket out to wrap around me. My feet were freezing in my boots, but there was nothing I could do. I just had to keep walking.

By the time the sun began to lighten the sky behind me I was exhausted and ready to crawl into whatever hole I could find. I stepped off the road and moved to a copse of trees that was a little distance away. After checking the underbrush for any holes I could crawl into, I instead sat beneath the tree in the middle that was half hidden by the brush. I was too tired to do much else other than shrug off my pack and get out the second blanket. I wrapped the other blanket around me, shivering in the morning light before I flipped a corner of one blanket up and over my head, leaving a small space to breathe through.

This was my life now. Walking all day, sleeping on the ground, trying to find a way to a city. I didn’t even know what I was going to do once I got there. My goal was just to _get_ there.

“One step at a time,” I reminded myself with a yawn. “One foot in front of the other.”

Even though I was so exhausted, sleep did not come easily. At the back of my mind was the fear that the villagers were still on my trail, that if I closed my eyes they would be on me and dragging me back.

But I had to close my eyes--I had to get some sleep. I wouldn’t survive very much longer if I let my fear rule me.

After a while longer, I slept, dreaming of a meadow surrounded by impossibly tall trees. In the distance was that comforting shadow, keeping watch over me while I rested in the calm serenity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful winter holiday, whatever you celebrate. I am currently chugging along on chapter 10 and starting to bring part one to a close. I had initially planned for the first part to take 10 chapters, but certain encounters took precedence for developing later threads of the story. Right now, it's looking like the conclusion of part one will be around chapter 12 or so, depending on how the pace goes.
> 
> I'm really enjoying writing this story, and I hope that you all are enjoying reading it. Please look forward to next week's chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

#### Part One: Sorrow

* * *

“Three weeks without food, three days without water,” I repeated to myself, voice croaking around a light cough. The words had become a mantra over the course of the day. “Three weeks without food, three days without water.”

A human could survive three weeks without food but only three days without water. I had to be within those time frames to stay alive.

When I woke up yesterday after my flight from the village, my stomach had been gurgling loudly. Aches and pains vied for supremacy and I was tempted to ignore my hungry belly to sleep more. Sleeping was an easy painkiller.

Unfortunately, I knew I had to get up and get more distance between me and the village. I didn’t know how long I had slept for--I’d walked until sunrise, at the very least, so I hoped I had gotten far enough away that no one would think to come after me.

So, I got up, packed away the blankets, and ate my fill. It was the last of my hard tack and the last of my fresh water.

Considering how far away the village had been from Therinfal Redoubt, I thought that I would be able to make the next village by the end of the day. Or town. I still wasn’t quite sure which road I had taken out of the village. But from what I saw on my map, any road that led out would inevitably end at a town or village. Once I was at the next waypoint, I’d reorient myself and continue on to Denerim.

Ah, the naive optimism.

I didn’t reach anything by the end of the day.

After I’d prepared a camp for the night, I’d wound up curled in a fetal position around my angry stomach with a dry throat that had me coughing every so often. My head and legs still ached fiercely from the previous day, adding to the new pains. It was a miserable night and I didn’t get much sleep.

The next thing I knew, after drowsily willing my stomach to stop hurting from lack of food, was that the sun was shining brightly and my dry throat was worse.

I sat up, near tears from the fierce pains screaming at me from all over my body. The last time I’d felt this bad was when I’d caught the flu for the first time, and that had taken me out for an entire week. I really hoped that I wasn’t sick--getting sick in this world might spell my death more quickly than lack of food or water.

Still, I forced myself to move and pack up my camp, hefting the heavy backpack back onto my shoulders. Gods above, please let me reach civilization today! Or at least a river where I could get water! I’d survive longer if only I had water.

Half in a daze, I’d climbed back onto the dirt road and started my trudge towards my next destination. I didn’t know how long it was before I’d started telling myself, “Three weeks without food, three days without water.” Time was a little warped for me at the moment.

When I began to see a few people in the distance on the dirt road, I thought I was hallucinating. I worried that I really was sick and had developed a fever. But then one neared me and raised a hand in greeting.

“Hello!” The woman said, smiling pleasantly.

“Oh. Hello.” I replied in a bit of a dull voice after realizing that, no, she wasn’t a hallucination.

She kept up her pleasant smile as she passed me, eyes forward on the road. I paused as she passed me, turning to watch her walk away. Another traveler and she seemed almost happy to be walking along? She must not be running away from something or running to somewhere. Not like me.

My dazed mind finally caught up. More people on the road meant that I couldn’t be much further from civilization. Which meant!

With a renewed enthusiasm, I continued walking, ignoring my aches and pains with the need to reach civilization.

Within an hour, I saw in the distance the high walls of a town and a castle behind that. South Reach. Finally!

There was a short line at the gate, a mix of various races. As I watched, three stepped past the guard and entered the town. They must have been in a group. I got in line behind a few impossibly tall grey-skinned people. Qunari, I realized. They were more intimidating in person than I’d ever thought just playing the game, a good two feet taller than me at the very least. Before, I could see them in 3rd person perspective. Now, I was forced to the 1st person perspective and a rather short one at that.

It wasn’t long before the qunari filed past the guard and entered the town. All that was left was me.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I took a deep breath and stepped closer to the guard.

“Name?” He asked in a bored tone, a board held in front of him with a pen poised over the parchment.

“Uh.” I blinked. This was the first time someone had asked me my name.

The guard leveled a look at me. It was the look of every exhausted food service worker I’d ever known. Completely done and no longer bothering with being civil. “Name?” He asked again.

“Alana Rose,” I finally said, feeling sheepish.

“Reason for entering South Reach?”

“Travel…?” I was unsure what to say. I really was traveling, but I also had the idea of trying to find a carriage or something that I could hire to take me to Denerim.

The guard wrote down my answers and stepped aside. “Cause no trouble.”

His attitude told me that I wouldn’t be getting any help from him. I stepped past him and hurried past the gates.

My first look at South Reach was rather overwhelming. Used to the evenly spaced out buildings of my home city, the buildings of South Reach crowded in on one another, people filling the spaces in between as they went about their daily lives. Of course, I’d gone to a few Renaissance Festivals back home, but even those crowded places hadn’t prepared me for this kind of crowding.

Fearful that there’d be pickpockets, I adjusted my belt pouches so that the money pouch was closer to my front. I kept a hand on the hilt of my sword so that I could maneuver it around, worried that with the crowding someone might get injured on the sharp blade.

I wasn’t sure where I was heading, so I just moved with the flow of traffic, trying to keep an eye on my money pouch while also keeping an eye out for any shops.

After what felt like mere minutes, I came to a plaza of sorts where several stalls were set up.

Excitedly, I pushed my way out of the flow of traffic and moved into the space nearer the stalls that was clearer to allow for people to stand and peruse the wares. From my new vantage point, I could see a few stalls selling armor and weaponry while others sold accessories. I couldn’t afford much, but I still found myself gravitating to the accessories. So sue me, I loved accessories, and after the last few days I’d had, I deserved a little something to distract me.

“Welcome!” The person manning the stall was a cheerful redheaded woman with countless freckles all over her face and bare arms. In another life, I might have fallen head over heels for her.

“Hi,” I said, voice faint and stuttery. Okay, I admit it, the girl was amazingly cute and I don’t know how to act around cute girls.

“Let me know if there’s anything you’re interested in!” She smiled brightly at me, spreading her hands out to indicate the wares in front of her. A very pointed ‘I’m only interested in you buying my wares.’

Guiltily, I looked down and started to look at the items. They certainly were accessories, but more than the kind of accessories that I’d seen in the games. Instead of just belts, rings, and necklaces geared toward fighters, there were also some simple jewelry pieces and scarves.

One in particular drew my eye to it. It was a deep crimson red, like the color of blood. It wasn’t a knitted piece, more of a cut of cloth with a tight weave. I reached down with one hand, feeling the fabric, and immediately fell in love with it.

“How much is this?” I asked, looking up at her.

Like a true merchant, she just smiled at me and said, “Two silver.”

A little pricey considering how much money I had. After that failed room at the tavern, I was left with 24 copper pieces. I’d separated the silver pieces into a different pouch, knowing that their value was much higher than the copper. But this scarf was a beautiful piece of fabric and in all honesty, with how shitty of a time I’d been having in Thedas, I deserved something nice.

“Can you do one silver?” I wheedled, hand still on the cloth.

“One silver...and fifty copper,” she shot back.

Still doable, but I didn’t want to show that I had more than one silver. “One silver, ten copper.”

“One silver, twenty, or it’s no go.”

That would leave me with a few coppers left over. I’d have to be really careful with how I spent the rest of my money. “You have a deal,” I said, reaching down for the two pouches and pulling out the agreed upon coins.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” she smiled happily as I handed over the money. I picked up the scarf and wrapped it around my neck over the gorget, dipping my chin into the fabric and smiling to myself. It felt good to finally have something to myself that wasn’t scavenged from dead people.

After walking along the marketplace as long as my aching body could stand, I wound up at a kind of cafe. Or maybe more of a pub? There were tables outside and a bar on the inside, but it was serving food to all different kinds of people. As soon as I sat down at the bartop, backpack sitting at the floor by my feet, a waitress came over to me on the other side and gave me a wan smile. “What can I get for you?”

With no signboard or menu in sight, I was forced to ask, “What do you have?”

“The special today is a stew and fresh baked bread, two coppers” she readily said.

“Then I’ll have that. Do you have anything to drink?”

“We have ale and cider, both a copper.”

No water. Made sense, given what I remembered of technology in Thedas. Safe water was hard to find if you didn’t live near a freshwater stream or had a well dug deep into the earth.

“Cider, please,” I decided. I hadn’t been much of a drinker to begin with, but I knew I could not stand the bitterness of beer and ale. Cider was my drink of choice often enough.

She looked at me expectantly, and I pulled out the implied three coppers, sliding them across the bartop. The woman dipped her head, giving me another wan smile, and walked off with the coppers. I distantly worried that she’d just walk off with the money without serving me, but she came back soon enough with a wooden mug filled to the brim with a sweet smelling liquid. Another few minutes and she returned with a wooden bowl of stew and a fresh roll of bread.

As soon as she stepped away to help another patron, I dug into the food with relish.

Amazing!

Delicious!

It was so good!

I’d never tasted anything so good in my life!

Or maybe it was the starvation and dehydration talking.

Either way, it wasn’t long before I was sopping up the remnants of the stew with the bread.

In between bites of the heavenly bread, I sipped at the cider, surprised with how much weaker the alcohol was in it than what I was used to back home. Maybe it was cut with water to stretch it out? Or maybe it was done on purpose to lower the alcohol content enough so that kids wouldn’t get drunk on it. Either way, the cider was as delicious as the rest of the meal and I soon had a full belly.

After finishing, I looked around at the other patrons to see what they did when they were finished. I was in an unfamiliar setting and didn’t know the dining culture here. Do I stack the dishes somewhere for them to clean? Do I leave them and just walk out?

I saw a group of people get up from a table and leave, dishes left behind. A slight boy rushed in after them, picking up the bowls and mugs and running back behind the counter and into the back.

Taking cue from the ones who just left, I got off the stool and picked up my backpack and left.

Back into the flow of foot traffic, I was more alert and observant than before, and my aches and pains lessened. I don’t know if it was the rest, the food and drink, or the mental relief at being in a more welcoming place, but I was glad for it.

I saw wooden signs hanging above a few buildings as I walked. At first I thought the signs were just created using some sort of fancy script, but no, I definitely could not read the words. Shit. Why couldn’t the creators of Dragon Age have made the written language, you know, _English_ ? I was embarrassingly illiterate in a world with _novels_ , for fuck’s sake!

I didn’t know how long I walked along with the crowd, but I eventually came upon what looked to be a guard station with a few armored men standing about. They were carefully watching the crowds, hands on their swords. It was as good an idea as any, so I stepped out of the flow of traffic and walked up to the closest guard.

Taking a deep breath, I gave a wry smile and spoke. “Hi there, I was wondering if you could help me?”

The guard I’d picked had a good head of height on me and looked about as broad as I was without actually looking fat. Given his normal ears, I had no doubt that he was utterly human. Still, he turned fully to me and gave me his undivided attention. “How can I help?”

A guard that took his job seriously and didn’t seem to have a bias against elves, at least not outright. Low fucking bar. “I was wondering if there’s a carriage or caravan in town where I can get passage to Denerim?”

His eyebrows quirked up but he nodded. “There just so happens to be a merchant caravan at the west gate preparing to leave. I can’t promise that you will be able to purchase passage, but that’s where you’re more likely to find it.”

I let out a sigh of relief. I’d been worried that I’d have to walk to Denerim the whole way. I don’t think I had enough money to purchase the amount of food I’d need for the whole journey there. Or the stamina to carry it all, for that matter.

After getting directions and finding out who I should talk to about passage, I got back into the flow of people and made my way to the west gate.

Soon enough, I came across a wide area between the last few buildings of the town and the wall that protected it. It was a large space, likely used for the exact purpose of housing wagons and the animals that pulled them. The flow of people trickled to a stop and I moved closer to what could only be the caravan the guard had mentioned.

As I approached the set of wagons, I could hear orders being shouted and people shouting back in acknowledgement. People were moving back and forth as they were packing up the wagons and loading crates of what must be merchandise. They looked like a smooth, well-oiled operation, and one that didn’t discriminate, as there were a few qunari and dwarves mixed into the bunch.

And suddenly I couldn’t remember the name of the person I was supposed to get the attention of despite the guard having told me scant minutes ago. Fuck.

“Hey, elf! You’re in the way!”

I hurriedly stepped aside, turning my body to see two burly men walk past me carrying a large, heavy container between the two of them. As they passed, I glanced around to find a place where I could stand and watch the caravan’s preparations while I tried to remember that damned name.

I wound up standing in the shadow of a balcony at the edge of town, pack resting at my feet while I had the chance. Even with a full belly renewing my strength, I was still in pain and still had shit stamina. I needed to take advantage of every rest stop I could.

“Hello there.”

I jumped, hand going for my sword at the sudden voice.

“Whoa, now, I meant no harm.”

Looking down, I found a very familiar face looking up at me.

“You interested in the caravan?” The dwarf asked. He was dressed modestly, his reddish blond beard and hair neatly combed. “I saw you watching for a while.”

Hesitating, I eventually nodded. How much should I reveal? If he was just making conversation, I shouldn’t reveal too much. “I wanted to know if I can book passage,” I said. “I was told it was heading for Denerim.”

“Right you are!” He said with a smile, wrinkles crinkling at the edges of his pale eyes. “After a fashion. But it’s a _merchant_ caravan, not a passenger caravan. No travelers allowed, so says the one organizing the caravan.”

My shoulders drooped.

He held up his hands when he saw my expression. “Hold on, hold on! I wasn’t finished! You can’t join as a passenger--but you can hire on as a guard. That sword isn’t just for show, is it?”

My hand went to my sword hilt again, fingertips rubbing against the now familiar leather grip. “No,” I said carefully. “But how do you know they’re hiring?”

“My apologies--Bodahn Feddic’s my name. I’m one of the merchants in the caravan, and wouldn’t you know it, I’m missing a guard for my cart.”

I blinked. This was Bodahn? Shit, no wonder he’d looked so familiar! It was really strange seeing his face look so...real. In fact, I think this was the first Dragon Age character I had met here.

Oh fuck, how would I react when I met some of my favorite characters?

Wait, back it up. I’m thinking like it’s inevitable that I’d meet them.

Fat chance that’d happen. The characters in Dragon Age were all in high places, inaccessible places to someone like me. I was a complete stranger here, with no connections. There was no way in hell I’d ever be able to meet someone like Zevran, Fenris, or Solas.

Still. Bodahn. Damn.

I couldn’t remember much about his personality. Part of me wanted to trust him outright because he was a friendly, familiar face. But the other part of me said to be wary because this was reality, not a videogame.

“You don’t know my fighting capabilities,” I began tentatively. “I know what I look like. Why would you take a chance on hiring me as a guard? Are you taking pity on me?”

Bodahn smiled up at me, the crows feet crinkling as his eyes twinkled. “Now why would I go and do a thing like that? I’m just in desperate need of another guard and you look capable enough of holding your own.”

I didn’t, but as before, I could use my appearance to my advantage in a fight. I sighed and gave him a small smile, holding out my hand. “I guess you’ve got yourself another guard, then, Bodahn Feddic.”

“Wonderful!” He said with delight, shaking my hand enthusiastically. He stooped down and picked up my pack, handing it to me. He turned around and started waving me to follow behind him. “Come along, then, and we’ll get your pack settled in my wagon--by the way, I didn’t quite catch your name?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, quite possibly for the first time since I woke up here in Thedas. Shaking my head as I chuckled, I followed him towards the caravan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, and happy new year! I'm really happy everyone is enjoying Alana's journey so far. There are so many things I want to say, but I don't want to risk spoiling anything! I want to maintain Alana's knowledge--or lack thereof--so that everyone will find out things at the same time as she does.
> 
> So saying, please continue looking forward to next week's chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

#### Part One: Sorrow

* * *

Bodahn talked a mile a minute as he showed me where I could store my backpack safely and introduced me to the horse that would be pulling the cart. Partha, he called her. Given that I’d rarely seen horses back home, Partha looked about as big as the clydesdale horses I vaguely remembered seeing at a theme park. She was big, long furred, but had the sweetest face I’d ever seen.

“Careful there,” Bodahn warned as I edged closer to the corral that housed the other animals. “She bites.”

I looked at her warily, but all she did was bend her head down and push her nose into my chest. I carefully rubbed her head between her eyes, and her eyes fluttered closed as she nudged her face even closer to me. I’d always loved horses, the bigger the better. When I was a kid, I’d had fanciful dreams of being a mighty knight riding into battle on my faithful war horse.

“She’s just a big sweetheart,” I cooed at her, scritching her forehead gently. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly, would you, Partha?”

She let out a soft whinny and pulled away, knocking her nose into Bodahn hard and sending him sprawling to the ground.

So that’s why he’d warned me.

“You okay there?” I asked, reaching a hand out to help him up. He took my hand but still grumbled as he dusted himself off.

“My boy usually handles the animals,” he told me. “But with him off doing his own thing, I’ve had to rely on hired guards.”

I remembered Sandal. A little slow, or at least that’s how he seemed. A savant? He’d been the go-to for enchanting weapons and armor. The times he’d been found alone, surrounded by dead darkspawn with no weapon of his own in sight, made me think that he might very well be one of the only dwarves that could use magic. Powerful magic at that.

It was really too bad that I wouldn’t be meeting him. I think I would’ve liked to have gotten to know the real Sandal and not a digital version.

Bodahn began to lead me back to his wagon, so I gave Partha a quick pat on her nose and trotted after him. He started to say something just before a blur ran up to him, almost running him over.

“Bodahn! There you are!” A slight man was saying, towering over the dwarf. His long ears told me that he was an elf and not just a skinny teenage human. “I was getting worried about you when I didn’t see you waiting at the wagon! Where did you go while I was getting provisions with Mirah?”

“Ah, Cyris, calm down!” Bodahn said, shrugging off the elf’s fluttering hands. “I was showing around my new guard.”

“New guard?” He looked up and saw me standing a few feet away. His large green eyes blinked at me before a wide smile broke out on his face. “Hello there! Nice to meet you! I’m Cyris, and that quiet mountain back there is Mirah--we’re your fellow guards!”

Cyris was an unnecessarily cheerful fellow, I decided. He looked a bit taller than me, bare-faced and bright red hair shaved on one side of his head. He was dressed in leather armor and had two long knives strapped to his back. A rogue class if I ever saw one.

Behind him stood a qunari woman. Her horns were rather short with the tips covered by a metal of some sort. Her hair was a stark white but free flowing about her shoulders, very different than all the qunari I’d ever seen in the games, including the qunari Inquisitor. Her armor was half metal, half leather, and a longsword was strapped to her hip while a large shield peeked over her shoulders. A warrior type, then.

“Nice...to meet you,” I managed to stutter out. Too many new people. Bodahn I was vaguely trusting of, but Cyris and Mirah… I didn’t know if I could trust them. For all I knew, they’d knife me in the back if I looked at them wrong.

But that was probably my anxiety talking.

“What’s your name?” Cyris prompted when I remained silent.

“Oh. I’m Alana Rose,” I said.

“Alana, then!” Cyris grinned. He danced around Bodahn, grabbed my wrist, and began to drag me back towards Mirah and the wagon. “Come on, then! Tell us what kind of things you’d like and we’ll go get some more provisions from the market. Can’t have our fellow guard marching on an empty belly!”

Cyris did what he’d said and went with me to the market to pick up provisions. The silent Mirah tagged along, “to carry the packages,” Cyris explained. I worried about the amount he’d insist on, knowing that I had limited funds. I said as much to him, but he waved it off as being covered by Bodahn. “Part of our pay,” he explained after seeing my expression.

We spent the next hour picking through provisions for me. Cyris obviously knew what he was talking about when he started explaining to me the amount of food I’d need per day and how much the wagon could hold.

By the time we headed back to the west gate, it was nearing sunset and I wondered if the caravan would be traveling at night. Feeling a little more at ease with Cyris because of all his talking, I asked him as much.

“We’re actually leaving in the morning,” he said. “Bright and early. No time to prepare in the morning, just hitching the horse to the cart and walking out the gate. Bodahn’s got a room at an inn, but us guards will be sleeping in a tavern.”

Great. Another tavern and this time with no private room for me to sleep in for safety. I was not gonna be getting a good rest any time soon, was I?

With the extra provisions packed and safely locked in the wagon with my backpack, I wound up following Cyris and Mirah to the tavern mentioned earlier. There were plenty more armored people there; the rest of the caravan guards, I assumed. They were a lively bunch, already half drunk and partying.

Cyris immediately disappeared into the crowd, leaving me and Mirah standing against one wall. I’d never been big into parties or large crowds; I wound up gripping one armored wrist and digging my fingers into the metal until my finger joints turned white.

A gentle hand was placed on my shoulder and I looked up to see Mirah pointing with her other hand. “Over there,” she said. I looked to where she indicated and saw a small empty table along another wall that looked big enough for three people. I turned back to her and nodded. She led the way through the crowd and I stuck close behind her, still clutching my wrist.

By the time we sat down, Cyris reappeared with three wooden mugs clutched between his hands.

“Alright!” He crowed excitedly, slamming down the mugs and sloshing the liquid over the rims. He divvied them up between the three of us and sat down on the third chair. “We got us a table--time for drinks!”

The two immediately tipped back the mugs and gulped down the liquid. I nervously looked down at mine and sniffed at it. Smelled like ale. Well, shit.

Not wanting to spoil the mood, I picked up the mug and threw back my head, gulping down the bitter liquid as much as I could stand. I didn’t get very far before I had to slam the mug back down, gagging and coughing at the burn of alcohol.

“Hey, that’s our fellow guard!” Cyris slapped my shoulder, smiling encouragingly. I glared at him half-heartedly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. He just grinned at me.

Over the course of the next few hours, Cyris and Mirah drank steadily while I nursed the first mug quietly. The quiet Mirah eventually broke into a wide grin and laughed, slapping a large hand against Cyris’s back at the joke he’d just cracked. I wasn’t paying attention. I just wanted the night to be over so that I could get back on the road to Denerim.

Shit, at this point, I don’t even know what I’d do once I reached the capital. My original idea had been to verify the time I was in, but I could’ve done that at any time here in town. Should I try seeing if I could move into the alienage in Denerim? In all honesty, it might be the safest place for me given the racism against elves. The real question, though, was if they’d even  _ let _ me move into the alienage.

Biting my lower lip, I stared into the mug and fought against the tears that threatened to spill. Why did everything have to be so goddamned difficult to do? I just wanted to go home--couldn’t I have just met a friendly face early on that took me under their wing with reassurance that they’d get me home?

“You alright, Alana?” Cyris’s face leaned into my vision, concern written clearly on it. “You look about ready to cry.”

Shit. How could I explain  _ why _ I was about to cry? Half truths? How could I phrase that I was heading to Denerim in the hopes I could find someone who could help me return home? I hadn’t thought of what kind of backstory to tell people that didn’t sound batshit crazy.

“I’m just...overwhelmed,” I said, avoiding his eyes.

“First time traveling outside an alienage?” He asked.

I looked up at him, blinking. Oh. Most elves lived in an alienage, that’s right. Those that didn’t would have face tattoos. Slave markings, I remember Solas confessing to my inquisitor right before he removed them for her.

I looked back down at my mug and shook my head. “I’ve never lived in an alienage,” I said. “But where I’m from...isn’t like here.”

He nodded. “It’s hard,” he began. “Being an elf in Ferelden. You don’t have to tell me why you’re by yourself, but you know, we elves have to stick together. If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask me, alright?”

His concern was a bit different from his earlier hyperactivity and I had to wonder if one or the other was a mask he wore.

“Thank you, Cyris,” I said. To my surprise, I genuinely felt thankful he’d offered me help without probing further into my background. I wonder what I must look like to him? An overweight elf traveling by herself.

He gave me another smile and stood. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Getting some more drinks--you want cider?”

I nodded, surprised he’d offered. He grinned and left.

Mirah’s elbows suddenly thudded onto the table and she leaned in close to me. “Cyris,” she began, voice slightly slurred, “can be a sweetheart. But don’t get too close to him if you want to stay safe--that elf is dangerous.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. As an elf by himself, of course he’d have to be dangerous, especially since he was working as a guard for a merchant. As a rogue class, he would also be sly and sneaky with who knows what else hiding up his sleeves. For all I knew, he had a jar of bees squirreled away, ready to be thrown into a crowd of enemies.

“Thank you...for the warning,” I said after several heartbeats. Mirah gave me a smile and then let her head fall forward onto the table with a  _ thunk _ . I was concerned for a moment before I heard the telltale noises of someone fast asleep.

Well. I guess she had drunk her fill.

Cyris came back and set down two mugs, one in front of me. I guess he’d been expecting Mirah to fall asleep. I picked up the one in front of me and took a sip. Oh, this was good. I tilted my head back and drank greedily. The cider was really good.

Setting the mug back down, I couldn’t help but smile. This was more my kind of drinking! Licking my lips, I looked up and around the tavern, more at ease and curious how the other guards were doing.

Half of them were already slumped over their tables and the other half looked to be settling down after the excitement of earlier. It was a cozier kind of environment than earlier. I guess the rowdier guards were the ones to fall asleep first after drinking their fill.

“Feeling better now?” Cyris asked, chin resting on one hand as he watched my face.

A little embarrassed that he’d been watching me, I reached down and pulled up my red scarf to cover the lower half of my face. Hopefully hiding the red flush to my cheeks. It was the alcohol, I swear!

“You don’t have to be so reticent,” Cyris laughed softly, reaching over to pat me on the shoulder. “We’ll be getting a lot friendlier starting tomorrow. So! Take the opportunity, ask me anything!”

Ask him anything? He probably meant something personal, but the first thing that came to mind was, of course, the year. That would be way too awkward to ask about, though. I had no idea how I’d explain not knowing what  _ year _ it was.

“You don’t have to think so hard about it!” He protested, laughing into his mug when I remained quiet.

Then, an idea crossed my mind. If I couldn’t ask the year directly, why not ask for news? It could give me something I could use as a reference point, especially if it was any of the events that had taken place between 9:30 and 9:44.

“News?” I asked, looking at him directly. “Surely you know what’s been going on over Ferelden, or even outside of Ferelden?”

Cyris looked taken aback a moment, not expecting my question. Then, he tilted his head as his eyes looked up and to my right, his left.

“Well, I suppose that depends on what you last heard?”

Shit. He turned it back on me, trying to ferret out what I knew.

“I haven’t really heard much,” I hedged. “I was...rather sheltered, back home.” Partial truth. I picked my mug up to stall any further questions.

He nodded, tapping his chin with one finger. “Then… I suppose the biggest bit of news I can remember is the death of the Herald.”

I dropped my mug, sending the liquid splashing out across the table.

“ _ What _ ?!” I stood, hands slamming down on the table as I gaped at him. “The Herald? They’re dead?!”

Cyris pulled on my arm and forced me to sit down, looking over his shoulder at the faces of several guards that were looking over at us. “Shhh,” he hissed. “Don’t draw any attention! The others are drunk enough that they might risk Mirah’s wrath.”

I paled at the thinly veiled warning that the other guards might attack us. Leaning closer to him, I hissed quietly, “The Inquisitor is dead? How? What happened?”

He leaned closer as well, our heads bumping. “Yes, Inquisitor Lavellan is dead. Killed by a bandit raid while traveling between Orlais and Ferelden. The announcement was made this past winter by the Chantry. Divine Victoria is still in mourning over her loss.”

Blinking, I lifted up my scarf and dabbed at my eyes. I’d wanted news, but this was quite possibly the worst news I could’ve imagined. Actually, I don’t think I could’ve ever imagined it. My Ellana Lavellan was not someone that would die so easily--I’d made sure of it! Ellana was everything I wanted to be--strong, competent, and confident. Even with only one arm, I knew she could rely on her companions to have her back, and that she would do everything in her power to make up for the lost arm. To think she’d died...to bandits? Of everything that could’ve happened, it was  _ bandits!? _

I growled, gritting my teeth as anger suddenly surged through me. I clenched my hands tight, fingers going white, pinpricks of pain barely registering in my palms.

Bandits.

Fucking.  _ Bandits! _

_ Where were her goddamn companions?! _

“Alana, calm down, shhh, it’s okay, listen to me, hey.”

Cyris had his arm wrapped around my shoulders, one hand resting over mine, trying to get me to let up on how hard I was clenching my fists.

“Where were her companions?” I demanded, hissing angrily. “She’s not such a weak person to die to  _ bandits _ !”

“We don’t know,” he said, still trying to soothe my anger. “The official news had no explanation for how she died, only that it was to bandits. No one’s seen the inner circle in months--save for Divine Victoria.”

Ellana’s death had to be a lie--I knew that at the end of Inquisition, they had been trying to find people who Solas didn’t know so that they could be certain that they were not Solas’s spies. Or certain that Solas would not predict their moves. I wouldn’t put it past Leliana to come up with a plan to fake the Inquisitor’s death to throw Solas off, or to draw him out.

Her death had to be a lie. It just had to be.

“It’s why there’s been an uptick in violence against us elves,” Cyris was whispering. “Now that the Herald is dead, the shems feel safer doing what they want.”

I looked at him, eyes wide. “That’s… Didn’t Divine Victoria make it so that men and women of all races could enter the priesthood?”

“That’s neither here nor there. The Chantry is probably one of the safer places to be an elf right now, but it doesn’t stop the shems. Me, I’ve been relying on Mirah’s intimidation to keep the shems from ganging up on me. I can handle one or two at a time, but not more than that.”

I let out a shuddering breath and closed my eyes. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. If I wasn’t so terrified of being in Thedas, I most certainly was  _ now _ . The worst I’d experienced back home was merciless teasing for my deformed ears, not outright violence against me because I didn’t  _ look  _ human.

The panic nipped at the back of my mind, threatening me with all sorts of images of what could happen to me here.

“Is there anywhere else that’s safe?” I asked Cyris, a bit of desperation in my voice. “I wanted to get to Denerim and see if the alienage could take me in--”

He interrupted me, shaking his head. “The Denerim alienage still hasn’t recovered. Last I heard, the only ones left was the Hahren and a few of the elders. The rest trickled out as they could and went north.”

“Fuck,” I whispered. “ _ Fuck _ .”

I put my face in my hands and let the tears fall.

There would be no help in Denerim. The city I had been traveling toward for the last several weeks would be hostile to me. I was back to square one.

“Fuck this world,” I sniffed.

“Agreed,” I heard Cyris reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Once again, thank you to everyone that has left a comment, kudo, or subscribed to the story!
> 
> This chapter is one I believe where the story really starts to take off with the introduction of Cyris. He is Alana's first interaction with an elf in Thedas and the one to reveal to her the time in which the story takes place. Of course, the year wasn't stated outright, and probably won't be for a while. It's not a spoiler, so to clarify, the year Alana enters the world of Thedas is the summer of 9:49 Dragon Age. I chose this year as a nod to the release date of Inquisition, which was a little over 5 years ago.
> 
> As always, please keep looking forward to the next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

#### Part One: Sorrow

* * *

Cyris and I spent an awkward night in the tavern. After I had calmed down, he’d picked up our mugs and took them to the bar to drop them off. After a quick whispered confession from Cyris, we decided to take turns sleeping to avoid any of the human guards getting the drop on us. There were other elves, dwarves, and qunari, of course, but the humans outnumbered us all. It was a terrifying prospect, to be honest. With how Cyris had described racial tensions, I didn’t know if the dwarves and qunari would come to our aid.

When it was my turn to sleep, I buried my face in my arms and tried not to think about anything.

I wound up dreaming of that same meadow again. I wondered if I was coming to rely on the serenity of the place. After all, it was only in this place where I could feel safe.

This time, however, there was no shadow looming in the distance like a guard dog.

I sat in the middle of the meadow, half hidden by the tall grasses and flowers. I felt oddly restless, like there was something I needed to be doing. There was no serenity here at the moment, that much was for sure.

Standing, I dusted off my backside as I felt the clinging remains of the plants I’d been sitting on. Oddly realistic for a dream. Looking around, I noticed for the first time ever that the treeline didn’t waver and shimmer. Taking a step closer to it, the treeline remained stationary--whatever had been controlling it’s distance from me in my previous dreams, it wasn’t here.

I took the time to fully explore the meadow, getting ever closer to the treeline. I began noticing stones jutting out from the tall grasses--old stones, easily taller than me, covered in vines and moss. Then there was a relatively small pond, the water rippling slightly with either a breeze or movement, I don’t know which.

An eerie feeling began to creep over me the closer I got to the edge of the meadow. I’d been here before--well, yes, I’d been dreaming of this meadow for several weeks now. But I hadn’t seen _this_ particular part of it. But all the same, it was eerily familiar and I could feel my heart rate picking up.

I wrapped my arms around my middle, holding myself as my steps slowed. Looking left and right, I could see trees that had fallen over. They were still alive, plants and vegetation growing all over them, but still its branches reached high for the ever present sunlight.

Sunlight…?

I knew then where I was, half-remembered though it may be.

This was the last place Solas had taken the Inquisitor in the Fade before he removed her vallaslin and broke up with her. Only then it had been night time and the scenery aglow with a kind of majesty.

My muscles tensed, remembering that heartbreaking scene, and I tried to turn around to go back to the safety of the middle of the meadow--even if this was in the daylight hours, it was still too sad of a place for me to be dreaming about.

“Who are you?”

I froze at the sound of the masculine voice, eerily, heartbreakingly, familiar.

How could I have been so stupid?

The dreaming world was his domain.

I shouldn’t be here.

I tried to force myself to move, but my feet remained planted. There was a sadness in his voice that kept me from running.

“Are you a spirit coming to comfort me?” He asked. I turned my head and saw his figure slumped against one of the fallen trees, his face buried in his hands. He wasn’t wearing the armor that I had last seen him in--he was wearing the familiar comfortable ‘hobo’ clothes.

“...” I didn’t know what to say. He looked so incredibly sad, but my instincts told me that I should be here--this was a too personal place. I wasn’t the one who needed to be here for him.

Yet still I found myself hesitating.

“Oh,” he spoke again before I’d gathered the courage to reply. “I recognize you now. You’re that dreamer who’s been visiting this place.”

Well, fuck. He recognized me.

Taking a deep breath, I marched over to him and sat down on his left side. He didn’t react but he had to know I had sat beside him.

“Why?” He asked simply.

I took another deep breath and gathered the little strings of bravado. “Because you look like you needed a hug,” I managed to squeak out.

A bitter laugh escaped him. “This is hardly a hug.”

“I know,” I said. “But I didn’t want to hug you without your permission.”

His hands slowly drew away from his face but he didn’t turn to look at me. “You say I look like I needed a hug...but you don’t want to give me one without my permission?” He let out a small, bitter laugh again. “You are a strange dreamer.”

“Would you mind?” I asked. “If I hugged you now?”

He was quiet a long time before I saw the slightest shake of his head. I turned myself where I sat, facing him better, and leaned forward to wrap my arms around his wide shoulders. I laid my head down on the back of his neck, closing my eyes and just holding him.

I don’t know how long I held him for before I felt the barest touch of his hand on my arm and the warm tears that began to splash on my skin.

I breathed in sharply through my nose, awaking abruptly and sitting up. There were tears in my eyes.

A dream, I told myself.

Only a dream.

Nothing but a dream.

Fuck.

It was still early in the morning, the sun barely peeking over the horizon outside the window, but it looked like Cyris had fallen asleep since his head was pillowed on his arms. I looked around, grateful to see that the rest of the guards were still asleep, the firepit in the center of the room banked. No one else in sight

Sighing, I stood up from the chair and stretched the cricks out of my body. It was stupid, sleeping at a table. I don’t know why I’d let Cyris convince me that I didn’t need to lay down to sleep.

I pressed my fingertips to the back of my neck, working circles into the stiff muscles there. Given the early morning, I decided I’d better get started early. There was no way I was getting anymore sleep after that nightmare.

I nudged Mirah awake, letting her know that I was heading to the corral to start getting Partha ready. She muttered her acknowledgement and let her head fall back down onto the table.

Shaking my head, I exited the tavern and stepped out into the early morning streets of South Reach.

There were people milling about, already up and ready to start the day. Probably bakers, I thought, if they wanted to have enough fresh baked loaves by the time everyone else woke up hungry.

The walk to the corral was a lot calmer in the early morning light. With no crowded streets distracting me, it was almost serene. Almost. The skin between my shoulder blades was tense and I kept a hand on the leather grip of my sword. Thankfully, I made it to the corral without anyone accosting me. Today was looking up already!

Partha snorted awake when I called out her name, walking over slowly as she blinked her large eyes sleepily. I gave her forehead a soft pet, kissing her on the nose as I whispered nonsensical things to her.

I don’t know what I was supposed to be doing to prep her to be hitched up to the cart, so I just stayed there at the edge of the corral, talking to her.

The sky was bright with morning light by the time people began to trickle into the yard, yawning, stretching, and calling out to each other good-naturedly. Mirah and Cyris showed up not long after, looking relieved when they saw me standing beside Partha.

Together, they showed where Partha’s gear was stored and how to put it on her. Cyris softly laughed about how Partha was calmer than usual. I wondered if it was because I was around? As far as I’d seen, she was a sweet horse that just wanted some love and affection. Then again, she’d sent Bodahn sprawling away with just her nose when he got close to her.

We finished hitching her to the wagon by the time Bodahn appeared, looking chipper and bright-eyed from a good night’s rest. He climbed into the driver’s seat, picking up the reigns. Mirah, demonstrating her qunari strength, put her hands on my waist and hoisted me up onto the bench beside Bodahn.

“Keep Partha calm,” she said when I tried to protest. Cyris and Mirah weren’t climbing up onto the wagon, so I couldn’t understand why she was insisting I do so.

Bodahn, to his credit, just hummed and told me to settle in for the ride.

It wasn’t long before the wagons closest to the west gate began to ride out, others falling in line behind them. Bodahn maneuvered Partha to get in line behind the fifth wagon and before I knew it, we were outside of the gate and on the road to the next village.

The ride was bumpy and rather boring, but it was heavenly compared to my plodding pace from before. I didn’t have to worry about lugging around a fifty pound backpack on top of fifty pounds of armor, though in all honesty I didn’t know how much either weighed.

The breeze was nice, at least. The early morning air was cool enough that I was comfortable in my armor.

After what felt like an hour, I began to look around at the scenery, perhaps for the first time noticing the mix of farmland and grasslands off in the distance on either side of the road.

It was beautiful. Breathtaking. In another life, I’d be enjoying a day trip to the countryside where I could do a little shopping in some quaint little town. In reality, this was the beauty of Ferelden that I had only ever seen in digital format. There was no comparing the two. How could one ever compare to the other? Even photos of the place would pale in comparison.

“You look like you’re enjoying the scenery,” Cyris commented as he walked alongside the cart.

I looked down at him and grinned. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight,” I said. “Nothing I’ve ever seen before can compare!”

He gave me a strange look and for a moment, I forgot that he didn’t know where I’d originally come from.

I grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck with one hand. “I didn’t get out much,” I explained. “Back home, I mean.”

“Apparently,” he said lightly, but didn’t comment further.

At midday, the lead wagon called for a halt so that we could eat. Mirah and Cyris pulled out a bit of food for me, a hunk of bread with meat and cheese. I groaned quietly at the cheese but still ate it when Cyris raised his eyebrow out me. Bodahn’s meal was a bit fancier, more of a sandwich with thinly sliced meat between two slices of a bread that looked loaded with herbs. My mouth watered just looking at it.

Maybe I should try baking bread with the herbs I’d dried all those weeks ago, next chance I got.

We resumed after an hour’s rest, and spent the rest of the daylight on the road. When the call went out to stop for the night, I was still rather energetic, having ridden on the wagon the whole way.

Cyris and Mirah looked exhausted, so I did most of the work unhitching Partha from the wagon. The large horse looked grateful to have someone she liked handling her, and even treated me to a sloppy nibble at my hair. I giggled at the weird feeling, drawing another weird look from Cyris.

I couldn’t help but feel he’d been watching me most of the day. He’d been walking along my side of the wagon the whole time, casually keeping an eye out for any sign of bandits. Or at least that’s how he’d looked. When I hadn’t been watching him out of the corner of my eye, I could _feel_ his eyes boring a hole into my back.

I didn’t know what I’d done to earn his curiosity, but it felt a little sinister compared to his normal hyperactive personality.

After finishing feeding and watering Partha for the night, I’d pulled out my backpack and begun to clear out a space near the campfire. My intention was to make a big enough space so I could wrap myself in my blankets and get to bed, but Cyris whistled to catch my attention.

I looked up and over at him, tilting my head. “You called?” I asked.

“What’re you doing?” He asked from where he sat, stirring a large pot of stew over the campfire.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Clearing a space to sleep?”

“You don’t need to do that. We figured you’d be sharing Mirah’s tent,” he said.

I was a bit taken aback at that. “I wouldn’t want to bother her,” I started, only to be interrupted by the qunari herself.

“It’s better for us women to stick together,” she said with a chuckle. “So you don’t have to suffer being around Cyris’s snoring.”

“Hey!” Cyris protested. “I don’t snore!”

“You do,” Mirah replied with a smile and left it at that.

I guess my sleeping arrangements were taken care of for the night. Possibly for the rest of the nights that it took to get where I wound up going. I hadn’t yet decided on where else I could now that Denerim was a bad idea.

Two tents were swiftly erected by my fellow guards, one slightly larger. Bodahn disappeared into the larger one and didn’t come out until Cyris announced that the food was ready.

The stew was absolutely amazing, the vegetables tender and plentiful. I ate heartily, sopping up the last bits with a hunk of bread when I’d finished the bowl. Cyris offered another helping, but I shook my head. After so long with so little food, I wasn’t about to risk making myself sick by overeating. Even though I longed to have some more of his amazing cooking.

After dinner, Bodahn returned to his tent while Mirah, Cyris, and I sat around the fire as the sun set fully. They spoke briefly about taking turns keeping watch. I wasn’t quite sure how to count time without a watch or phone, so I insisted on going last. Cyris raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t complain, instead volunteering for the first watch.

I retired to the tent first, crawling gratefully into the shelter where I wrapped myself in my blankets with a sigh. I was tempted to remove my armor so that I could take off my bra, but I figured that I’d have to wake back up and get up soon enough for my shift.

It kind of felt bad, but I was starting to get used to the uncomfortable feeling of sleeping in armor while wearing a bra.

With a yawn, I thought distantly of the next opportunity I’d get to bathe and wash my clothes. It was a luxury on the road, I knew, but surely we could stop by a river somewhere? I’d lost the opportunity in South Reach, I realized with a groan. Of everything, showering every other day was the one thing I missed the most about home.

I slept then, dreaming of a time when I could take a hot shower.

When I was woken for my turn at watch, I found Mirah curled up beside me, her blanket thrown off to the side as if she had overheated in the middle of the night. She looked peaceful. I pulled her blanket back up to cover her and exited the tent.

Cyris gave me a tired smile before retiring to the other tent. Not soon after, I could hear soft snoring.

I sat on the little stool by the banked campfire, wiggling my booted feet as close to it as I dared. With how long I’d been walking in them, I was a little afraid of what I’d see once I took them off.

I suddenly thought of trench foot, from my old history classes. It had been a terrible thing during the first world war, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember how the soldiers had gotten it. Had it been the wet conditions? Or had it been all the walking without taking off their boots?

Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I looked around and tried to distract myself from the very thought. I didn’t need to worry about my feet on top of everything else. I had enough on my plate with trying to survive and figure out where else I could go to find shelter.

Fuck, would there ever come a time when I could just sit and _think_ about something _other_ than survival?

Hierarchy of needs, I thought suddenly. It was a thing that I vaguely remember from my school days. It ranked a person’s needs to be mentally healthy and happy. The bottom, if I remember correctly, was food, water, and rest. The next up would then be...security? Safety? It made sense to me.

So, I just needed to find a place where I could be safe and secure, and then I could focus on other things.

But as an elf in Thedas, was there ever such a place? Maybe back in the days of Arlathan, even _with_ all the slavery. The Dalish, maybe? I knew they weren’t all of one mind, and they roamed often enough to keep themselves safe. If I could find a Dalish clan to take me in, I’d have time to really think about my future here.

I sighed, looking down at the small fire. There were very few options for elves, weren’t there? Maybe I could try asking Cyris if he had any ideas where I could go? He might try prying into my background, though.

Then again, I could just play off of how he sees me. An escaped elvhen pet, maybe? I was overweight and obviously not used to the harsh conditions of travel. I also knew very little of the outside world. It wouldn’t be too difficult to pull off such a background, and it might even give me more opportunities to ask about Thedas without it seeming too weird.

Mind made up, I nodded to myself and sat back up, carefully looking around. Looks like nobody had been watching me as I waged a mini war with myself. Good. I was alienated enough as an elf, I didn’t want to seem crazy on top of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe that I rewrote the first scene four times before I finally settled on this one? I had so many different ideas but most of them seemed to be very out of character whenever I would go back and check for readability. But, ahh, there's nothing quite like finally hitting on the perfect idea for a scene so that it fits seamlessly into the story instead of sticking out like a pulled thread.
> 
> Once again, thank you to everyone who's commented, sent kudos, bookmarked, or even just read it! I'm really happy that everyone seems to be enjoying the story. As always, please continue looking forward to next week's chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

#### Part One: Sorrow

* * *

The next week passed in a similar manner for me. I got woken up before sunrise for the last watch, then woke everyone else up for breakfast before we’d pack up and get back on the road. At midday, we’d stop for a quick meal. Near sunset, we’d pull off the road and make camp before eating dinner. Eat, sleep, wake, travel, and repeat.

Unfortunately, there weren’t many opportunities for me to get Cyris alone to ask him about safe locations for elves. I didn’t want Bodahn or Mirah to listen in on the conversation. Or the other caravan guards, for that matter.

Even though Mirah kept putting me up on the seat next to Bodahn, I could see the other caravan guards glaring at me. Everyone but the merchants were forced to walk alongside the carts. I didn’t want them thinking I was getting special treatment, but every time I tried to get down to walk, Mirah would just pick me back up and set me next to Bodahn.

Bodahn was no help, of course. He’d just smile at me, pat my leg, and say that he appreciated being kept company. Missed his boy, he said.

It was a frustrating week by the time we reached the little village that had popped up along the imperial highway. There were several other roads leading out from the village, so it explained why it had started to grow. It had a centralized location for commerce and was on a major highway that caravans traveled along while going through Ferelden.

On the side we entered, there were some buildings in the middle of being constructed. Soon the village would get big enough to be called a town, and then maybe a city. Of course, they’d probably have to get permission from the local noble before getting too much bigger. Didn’t want to piss off the one in charge of your taxes.

The caravan wound up stopping just before the village proper began, where there was enough room to park the carts, corral the horses, and set up temporary merchant stalls.

The plan, Cyris was telling me as we helped set up Bodahn’s stall, was to stay in the village for two days and then get on the imperial highway headed towards Denerim. There would be several villages and towns we’d stop through on the way there, but Denerim was going to be the big stopping point for a lot of the merchants. The journey, all told, would probably take about a month or two depending on the weather and any bandit activity.

It was definitely a slow pace, I couldn’t help but think. Back home, a 100 mile journey would take a little over an hour. But there were no cars here, just horses and wagons. At least it would be faster than my slow pace.

After we finished setting up Bodahn’s stall, I wasn’t quite sure what we would be doing. I’d been about to ask Cyris when I felt Mirah’s large hand tap me on the shoulder. I turned around and looked up at her, cocking my head to the side.

“There’s a bath house here,” she said simply. “The other female guards are heading there. They do laundry, too.”

I blinked.

A bath!

Of course there must be a way to bathe, but I hadn’t put too much thought into it beyond what I’d managed to accomplish at Therinfal Redoubt.

Eagerly, I smiled and nodded at her. “That sounds wonderful!” I said. She gave me a small smile and motioned for me to follow her.

We wound up trailing after a few of the other female guards, two humans and a dwarf. There weren’t very many female guards in the caravan, Mirah told me, so they tended to stick together when it came to going to the bath houses during stops.

The bath house was set a little ways off to the side from the village, a wooden fence rising high enough around the grounds that even Mirah couldn’t peek over it.

There were some young women in damp gowns standing at the entrance, smiling tiredly. “Welcome!” One said as she waved us women inside. “We have a bathing area separate for women, through here.”

We were directed behind a partition and found ourselves beneath a large fabric canopy held up by wood and lattice. Along both sides were rows of wooden tubs with white fabric lining the rim. Stacks of wooden buckets were resting nearby on the wooden slats that ran between the tubs.

“We’ll need our clothes washed, too,” Mirah was saying when I started paying attention.

“Of course,” our guide said, bowing over the coins Mirah had handed to her. “We’ll send in some girls right away to help you and pick up your clothes to be washed.” Our guide left, leaving us in the wide bathing area.

The other three women drew Mirah into their conversation as they moved to one side of the room, already shedding their armor. Meekly, I followed after and did the same.

When Mirah shrugged out of her tunic, I saw for the first time what passed for a bra here in Thedas. There was no elastic that I could see, and no hooks. It looked made specifically to her size, and I thought to myself, of course it must be. In order to function well, bras had to fit perfectly. Modern bras could be adjusted to the wearer so they could be mass produced. Bras here must be something either specially purchased or made by the woman who would be wearing it.

I was nodding to myself, figuring that I had lucked out and my underwear wouldn’t draw too much notice, when Mirah turned around back to me to ask a question. A veritable network of scars criss crossed her torso from shoulders down, disappearing into the waist of her leggings.

She saw where I was looking and looked down at herself. “Hazards of the trade,” she said, gesturing to her scars. “Sometimes you get caught unawares and have to do without armor. Sometimes your armor breaks in the midst of battle. But as long as you live to see the injury turn into a scar, you’ve done your job as a guard.”

“Because the only way to fail as a guard is to die,” the dwarven woman piped up, already naked and tossing her clothes in a pile separate from her armor.

I couldn’t help the blush that crept up my cheeks. Even when I’d been in my PE classes back in school, I had avoided the showers like the plague. Being attracted to women, I was always overly aware whenever I entered a locker room. I didn’t want women to feel uncomfortable around me, so I tried to never look at the other women.

I couldn’t avoid looking at her now. Feeling even worse now that I’d seen her, I looked away and down, fumbling with the last bits of my armor. “Sorry,” I muttered, “I didn’t mean to look.”

“Embarrassed to see another woman? Ah, lass, did you never bathe with your mother?” The dwarven woman laughed, getting closer to me to smack me on the back.

I stuttered. “No! I mean, yes, she bathed me when I was a kid, but as soon as I was old enough to wash myself, I did!”

“Alana,” Mirah murmured, a pitying look on her face.

My cheeks heated up even more. “Don’t pity me,” I pouted.

The human women laughed nervously, looking at each other. They didn’t know how to react to the situation.

Thankfully, I was saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of two bath attendants carrying buckets of steaming water. After they dumped the water in the furthest tub, they gathered the other’s clothing and departed, presumably for more water.

I was the only one still clothed. Fuck. As much as I hated the idea of being naked in front of other people, the desire for a nice, hot bath was more important. Screw it, I thought, and tugged off the tunic, letting it fall to the ground. I undid my footwraps, untied my boots, and slipped out of the pants. They still looked absolutely horrible and obviously cobbled together, but they had held up well this past month or so of constant wear.

A stream of bath attendants came in after that, one whisking away with my clothing after depositing her load of hot water.

I tried not to notice, but I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. Their eyes on my loose skin, my sagging belly. I wasn’t sure how much but I had lost a lot of weight since coming here. I had no doubt that it was a rapid weight loss, since I could feel the loose skin around my middle. There were pink scars, stretch marks, running along my sides. To anyone familiar with rapid weight gain or weight loss, my stretch marks were very obvious.

I’d struggled with my weight back home. Depression, anxiety, and a sedentary lifestyle had led to me become overweight by the time I was in high school. It was only when I was introduced to fencing that I had begun to gain control over my weight. Once upon a time, I had been more fat than muscle. I’d still had plenty of fat when I started competitive fencing, but beneath that was muscle I’d developed through the rigorous training methods of my coaches.

The loss of fat had been slow but decidedly healthy. A good way of losing fat. I’d still struggled with how my belly looked, even when it did come in handy to psych out my opponents.

Who could’ve guessed that what it took for me to lose a lot of weight was several hours of constant hiking a day with close to a hundred pounds of extra weight strapped to my body? Add into that a severe lack of decent food. This was decidedly the bad kind of weight loss. Too much, too fast. I hadn’t been eating enough calories to carry myself through this past month, so my body was using up my fat stores. Were my muscles weakening, too? I couldn’t tell, I’d already been tired from the long days of hiking.

I put a hand against my belly and felt the excess skin there. I wondered if there would ever be someone attracted to this body of mine. All I had going for me was my personality and my ears.

Behind me, I heard the whispers of the other women.

“Poor thing,” one whispered to the others. “Must’ve been some noble’s pet elf. Can’t handle life on the road.”

I frowned to myself but didn’t turn around. I hated the idea of people pitying me for how I looked. I was more capable than I looked, really!

Thankfully, the five tubs were rapidly filled with steaming water and I gratefully slid into mine, if only because I could now hide my gross body from prying eyes.

As soon as I slid into the hot water, I was in heaven! From the tips of my aching feet to my tense shoulders, I could feel all the muscle aches and pains being soothed away. Ah, I’d missed this!

“Serah?”

I blinked open my eyes to find a young woman dressed in a white shift bent over me. Her ears were long, like mine. An elf. “Yes?” I asked, sitting up.

She smiled tentatively and held out a tray filled with small stone jars. “Scented soaps? For your hair.”

I leaned forward, excited. “Ooh! What scents are they?”

She jumped a little, surprised by my excitement, but began pointing out the jars and naming which scents they were. “We have vandal aria, embrium, and a simple elfroot mixture that speeds the growth of hair.”

“None for me, thanks,” I heard Mirah say, shaking her head at her own attendant. “I’m not one for fancy scents.”

I couldn’t see the other women, but knowing that Mirah had turned down the soaps made me hesitant in picking one for myself.

Ah, screw it! I’d gotten this far, after all, I’d earned a little spoiling.

“The vandal aria, please,” I said, pointing at the red painted stone jar with the rose-smelling soap.

The elf attendant nodded and set down her tray before picking up the jar and scooping some of the soap onto her fingers. She paused as she looked at me, frowning a bit before gesturing with her hands. “If you’ll allow me, serah?”

She was going to wash my hair for me? “Oh!” I turned around and immediately felt her small hands working the soap into my hair. She scooped some water out of the bath to bring the soap to a lather and I was suddenly surrounded by the scent of roses.

It was a comforting scent and reminded me of home. My mom had been obsessed with rose scents, always pointing at our surnames as a reason to buy everything rose scented she could find. It had been a silly thing, growing up, but I missed it now.

When she was finished with my hair, the attendant scooped out more water from the bath and gently rinsed my hair free of the suds.

“You know the scent won’t last,” Mirah said, looking at me from where she lounged in her tub.

“So? I’ll enjoy it until then,” I said as I sank down further in the still warm water.

“Definitely some noble’s treasured pet,” I heard one of the other women whisper.

How that woman hadn’t been punched in the face with how much shit she talked, I’ll never know. She was lucky I was too much in heaven from the bath to give a shit about shutting her damn fool mouth for her.

After we’d been presented with her our freshly laundered clothing, we’d gotten out of the tubs and dried off with sheets presented to us by bath attendants. My hair was dry in no time flat, being so short, so I slipped back into my bra, panties, and clothes with a grateful sigh. It took a little longer for Mirah and the others since they had more hair to dry, so I left the little area so I wouldn’t take up space for new bathers.

I sat on a bench outside the wooden fence, back pressed against it as I stared up at the bright blue sky.

Today had been a good day so far, I thought. Having a nice bath after being grimey and filthy for so long, who wouldn’t think of the day as being a good one?

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, enjoying the light breeze and warm sunlight.

Without conscious thought, I slipped into a familiar dream.

As I sat in the middle of the field, I was surrounded with the scent of roses. The flowers that had previously bloomed there in a variety of shapes and colors were all now the shape of roses. There were still dozens of colors and patterns, of course--more than I had ever seen for roses back home.

In all honesty, it might’ve been the influence of the scented soap that made the flowers into roses. Still, with the slight breeze wafting through the tall grasses and flowers, it was the comforting scent of home.

I sat there for several long minutes enjoying the calm, or at least I thought it was several minutes, before opening my eyes and noticing that the edge of the meadow had changed back into that scene from before.

Curious, I stood up and walked toward it. Again, it was a daytime scene, but it was no less beautiful. Looking around, I saw peeking out from behind a fallen tree was a statue. Moving closer, I couldn’t help but giggle. It was a Fen’harel statue, overgrown with moss and vines, easily twice my height and carved by skillful hands.

How prideful that man, I couldn’t help but think. To have taken my Ellana to a place where one of his own statues was hidden just beyond backdrop.

Knowing this to be a dream, I clambered over the fallen tree and made my way to the statue. The wolf-like form of Fen’harel rested on pedestal, his paws resting lightly as his head looked quietly into the distance.

The pedestal looked easily climbable. And so I did--I climbed onto the pedestal and stood next to the statue, balancing just at the edge of the platform with one hand resting on the statue’s side. Looking up at the back, I tried to gauge how easy it would be to get there. Though it was a skilled carving, it did not have the same texture of a real wolf. There would be no fur to grab onto--and the vines were certainly  _ not _ sturdy enough to hold my weight.

Nonetheless, I put one foot on an arm and used that to jump up, grabbing onto the statue’s nose before kind of awkwardly swinging my body around to catch my other foot onto the back. Carefully, I scooted my foot and leveraged my body closer until I was able to let go of the snout and stand fully on the statue’s back.

“Haha!” I laughed to myself, smiling wide. “I’ve always wanted to do something like this!” But climbing statues back home wasn’t the way people were supposed to behave--what I would’ve given to have been able to climb wherever I wanted as a kid!

Sighing happily to myself, I sat down and leaned my back against the neck. I closed my eyes, letting my head rest against the statue, and thought of absolutely nothing.

“Having fun, I see?”

Startled, I almost fell off the statue’s back but managed to catch myself by throwing my legs down so that I was straddling the statue’s back. Eyes wide in shock, I looked toward the sound of the voice and couldn’t help the heat that immediately rushed into my cheeks in embarrassment.

He was standing a few feet from the statue, arms akimbo as he looked at me in amusement. How long had he been watching me? Suddenly, he frowned and his arms dropped to his sides. “Wait...your face…?”

It was only then that I remembered that in a fit of pique, I’d manipulated the character creator so that Ellana’s face looked like mine. She would look like me, and be my proxy, as I played the game. She would do things that I couldn’t do myself--I’d make her the better Alana.

But she was dead, and here I was sitting on a statue of Fen’harel in front of the very man who I’d purposely made her romance even knowing how it would end.

Dear god, I was an asshole.

I blinked awake and opened my eyes to see Mirah looking down at me. “Sorry it took so long,” she said. “We’re ready now.”

“Oh. ‘Kay.” I stood and trailed after them, feeling oddly tired despite having just woken up. There was a pain in my chest as I remembered the vestiges of the dream. Was it a Fade dream? I wasn’t from here, so I shouldn’t be able to connect to the Fade.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I rewrote last chapter's dream one more time, I had to take the time to rewrite this chapter's dream as well. I don't want any holes in this story! Also, I'll admit to writing the bath scene a lot longer than originally planned. I wanted to demonstrate all I'd learned about medieval bathing--I'd actually done quite a bit of research prior to writing the chapter. Because the Roman empire spanned so wide, there were a lot of baths and bathing areas that lasted several hundred years--and since the Tevinter empire is kind of like the Thedas equivalent, there should definitely be baths and bathing areas lying around, especially since there's still the Imperial Highway. Or maybe I just wanted a bath house to seem plausible.
> 
> Either way, as always, thank you for keeping up with the story and please look forward to next week!


	10. Chapter 10

#### Part One: Sorrow

* * *

With our supplies refreshed and some of the wares sold, we were off after the second day at the village. I never caught the name of it in the end and was too embarrassed to ask about it later.

Unfortunately, I was back on the cart with Bodahn. Even after telling Mirah that I wanted to walk some of the way, she just ignored my protests and put me back up on the seat. This was really starting to get annoying--Bodahn had hired me on as a guard, not... _ this. _

After we left the village, we were on the Imperial Highway. It was an impressive road, truth be told. The peek of it I’d seen in the first game hadn’t been much, and what little of it there was had been decrepit. But where we had gotten onto it was nothing but smooth stone and impossible looking architecture.

The ride was definitely a lot smoother this way, and a lot higher off the uneven ground below. It was no wonder that merchants often used the Imperial Highway when they could. Unless bandits were staked out ahead behind pillars or at any of the entrances, we were about as safe as we could get.

At the end of the first day on the Highway, we had to carefully pull off and make camp just beneath it. It was more dangerous being off the Highway, but we couldn’t exactly make camp on the road itself. That would be rude.

That first night, I tried to talk Mirah into letting me walk alongside the cart in the morning. She just shook her head while Cyris piped in, “We need someone guarding Bodahn.”

Bodahn just nodded and smiled along.

Bastards.

I drank more cider than I had originally intended to that night. I wasn’t drinking to get drunk, of course. But I was frustrated enough that I wanted the alcohol to dull the frustration and pain. At the very least, it helped me sleep dreamlessly.

I woke to screams.

It was the eerily familiar sound of people fighting and dying.

The grogginess from the alcohol and sleep was gone in a flash, adrenaline already pumping in my veins.

Throwing my blankets off, I reached for my sword belt and strapped it on in a hurry. I barely had time to register that Mirah was not in the tent when the flap was drawn aside and Cyris stood framed in the entrance.

“Alana,” he said, all trace of his normal humor gone. “Good, you’re awake. Bandits took advantage of the night--come on!”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the tent, dragging me toward the line of carts that I could see several guards making a ring around as they sought to protect the cargo. Nearing it, he pushed me toward Bodahn, who was cowering near the wheel of his cart.

“Stay there!” Cyris ordered. He unsheathed his short swords and ran off into battle. Distantly, I noticed there was a chain wrapped around one of his arms.

I turned to Bodahn, unsheathing my own sword and kneeling down close to him. “Where’s Mirah?” I asked over the shouting.

“She’s in the thick of it,” he said, pale eyes wide. “She’s the one who spotted the first raider.”

I nodded and stood up.

One of the older guards was shouting orders for those of us nearest the carts to form a tight line. I made to follow the order when I felt Bodahn’s hand reach out and stop me.

Confused, I looked back at him.

“You can’t,” he said. “You can’t fight!”

“I’m a guard, too!” I protested. “I have to help!”

“No, you can’t, it’s not your fight--”

“Then you shouldn’t have hired me on as a guard!” I snarled, jerking my arm out of his grasp. Before he could stop me again, I ran to join the other guards, sword at the ready for the oncoming attackers that were slipping past the first line of guards.

My heart was pounding, adrenaline thick in my veins.  **_Thadump, thadump, thadump._ **

I let out a slow breath, my racing mind quieting. It was a trick I’d always used right before playing through a boss battle in a game. A way of centering myself, calming my panic, and focusing on the task at hand.

_ I’ve got this. _

The first of the bandits reached us to my left, cut down by the swing of a two handed axe wielded by a human guard. More bandits swarmed us, my fellow guards engaging them and refusing to break the line.

Without thought, my blade met the swing of another bandit’s, easily slipping past the wider blade and leveraging it away and down. The bandit snarled but his face quickly lost all emotion as the tip of my blade snapped up like a snake and  _ bit  _ into the base of his throat that should have been protected by a gorget.

I had no time to register what I had done when more bandits were upon us.

One was coming straight at me, a larger than life qunari that wielded a fierce looking sword whose blade must be as long as I was tall. The qunari’s face was painted with vitaar in the shape of a skull. Death. He was Death.

He was upon me in seconds, his massive blade crashing down, aiming to cleave me in two.

_ No time! _

I  _ sprang _ forward, using his momentum to dodge forward between his spread legs. I heard the cries of the guards behind me, one yelling to  _ not break the line. _

I came up on the other side of Death, sword arm already whipping around as my legs and other arm stabilized me. I slashed at the backs of his knees, cursing when the edge of my blade skittered across the metal plates of his tasset.

Death chuckled as he slowly brought his blade back up and turned to face me. Shit!

I brought my legs beneath me and crouched low in a stance, my sword arm bouncing as I watched his movements, ready for any attack.

Swifter than I could think, Death brought his leg up and  _ kicked _ me hard in the stomach, sending my stumbling backwards and falling onto my back, the breath stolen from my lungs.

“How stupid of you,” Death taunted, watching me struggle to roll over and get my feet beneath me. “A small child like you? Against someone like me? You should pick your opponents better, girl!”

“Fuck…you,” I panted, coughing. I wrapped my free arm around my stomach, wheezing at the pain. Had he broken my ribs with that kick? Were any of my organs damaged? It was impossible to know, but damn did it  _ hurt! _

“You did well against a few of my men, at least,” Death continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Maybe I’ll let your death be swifter.”

“Shut up!” I snarled, tightening my hand around the hilt of my sword.

“Poor little girl, doesn’t know when she’s been beat,” he chuckled, leaning down, hefting his obnoxiously large sword close to my throat. I held still, breath catching in my throat. “Any last words, little girl?”

“You talk too much,” I smirked, my offhand jerking up and  _ jamming _ my knife beneath his jaw.

Death wheeled back, sword dropping and giving me the chance to leap up and jam my knee into the hilt of the knife, forcing it further into his skull.

Death’s eyes widened one moment before the light in them left.

I stood there, coughing as I fought to regain my breath. No, he was not Death incarnate. He was just a qunari, just a man. He was not Death.

Realizing that I was still in the midst of the battle, I looked around, seeing all the fighting still going on, and ran back to the line, dodging between pockets of fighting. The other guards still maintaining the line let me slip past them, and I did so gratefully. I caught my breath then, and then rejoined them.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with the other guards once again, we fought back against the tides of the oncoming enemies. How many of them must there  _ be _ ? Half our fellow guards were in the thick of things further away, but more and more bandits were finding their way past them and to those of us left to guard the cargo and merchants. I began to fear the worst.

“We can’t hold them back!” Came the cry, and I knew then that the true battle had begun.

“Fall back!” Ordered someone, I don’t know who.

Was the battle lost?

_ No. _

Without thought, I bent down and picked up the sword of the first bandit that fell to my blade, testing it’s heft and balance quickly before juggling the two hilts between my hands, switching the smaller sword to my offhand and taking the large one in my dominant hand.

I was reminded of the ‘war games’ my first fencing class would play when the weather was nice. The coach would let a select few wield two foils and lead teams against the others in order to score ‘points.’ The points were gained by removing a player from the game by getting a hit on them. It was the  _ only _ time she had allowed us two foils.

The very idea had encouraged me to learn to fence with my left hand once I got serious about competing, on the off chance that one day I could experience dual-wielding swords.

That day had come.

Swords at the ready, I stepped into the fray and  _ lunged _ at my next opponent. I didn’t know what was going on behind me anymore, and at this point I strangely  did not care.

_ They will not win! _

A fierce rage _burned_ through my veins at the very idea that _I_ would lose!

I  _ would  _ not lose!

I  _ could  _ not lose!

A roar built in my throat until I let it burst free, startling my closest opponents and giving me the opportunity to snake my blades past their armor and  _ biting  _ into unprotected flesh.

Later, Cyris would whisper to me the stories the other guards would tell about me. To them, I was a whirling dervish of vengeance and untethered rage, impossibly nimble and eerily precise as my blades danced and sang in the air, slipping past all kinds of armor and coming out covered in crimson.  _ Impossible _ , they would claim. But still they would tell the stories and in softer voices offer a warning, “Do not cross her in battle.”

Suddenly, I heard someone shouting my name, “ _ Alana _ !”

The spell that had held me in a  blood-filled rage dissipated and I came to a stop, arms falling limply to my sides as I beheld the scene before me.

All around me were the bodies of the bandits, some heaped on others. The scent of  blood  was thick in the air, the metallic smell so strong that I could  taste  it on my tongue.

“Alana?”

Cyris stepped in front of me, fear on his face and daggers held at the ready. “Are you...okay? The battle’s over...”

I was suddenly so exhausted that I could barely keep standing. Falling to my knees, I let the blades drop from my hands. “No,” I managed to get out moments before the vomit did.

I fell onto my hands and heaved up everything that had been in my stomach, the acid burning my throat. I heaved and heaved, coughing and crying and sobbing as I  _ finally _ registered what I had done, how many people I had killed.

_ Oh god _ , what had I  **_done_ ** ?  _ What had come over me? _

There would be no answer for me that night, only the taste of vomit, the smell of  blood , and a warm hand stroking my back.

It took three days to recover from the bandit attack.

Several guards had lost their lives in the initial attack, so the few guards that had made it out of the battle without injury were pulling double duty.

For my part in it, I wound up with bloody blisters on my palms, bruised ribs, and several lacerations on my arms and legs where my armor had not protected me. All in all, my injuries weren’t too severe, so I could have insisted on pulling double duty with the other guards. But I needed time to be alone in my misery.

Death and fighting were a way of life for these people. They were so used to it, knowing that their own end could come any day, through disease or injury. Or even darkspawn attack.

It wasn’t the same for me. Where I’d grown up, there were no bloody battles being waged right outside my front door. Yes, there were soldiers, and there were bloody battles, but they were fought with guns and bombs from far away, not up close. Not where they could see their enemy’s life drain away in front of them.

The aftermath of the attack was very different for me and I don’t think any of them would ever understand even if I told them where I had come from. They wouldn’t be able to conceive of a place where life was so mundane that a once-deadly illness was nothing more than an inconvenience, or eradicated entirely. Or that fighting was done from far away with projectiles and explosives.

Immediately after the battle was over, Cyris had helped me limp back to the tent I shared with Mirah, which had surprisingly survived the battle. After giving me a cursory once over, he handed me a pouch and left.

The pouch contained bandages and a healing salve, I presumed. I wasn’t sure how to treat my own wounds with this, since I was used to plasters and disinfectant. I left the pouch just outside the flap of the tent and instead curled up in one of my blankets, hiding my face from the world.

Mirah didn’t return to the tent that night. I distantly hoped she hadn’t been one of the casualties. I was too exhausted and soul-weary to go and look.

In the morning, my blanket painfully stuck to me and I had to gingerly peel it away from my injuries. My hands were in so much pain that I could barely move them, let alone grip and hold things. Cyris had left one of my waterskins near the front of the tent, so after some finagling, I managed to uncork it and greedily drink it down.

As if the mere act of drinking had rehydrated me, I found myself staring quietly into the distance as fresh tears tell down my cheeks.

I was straight up a serial murderer now, wasn’t I?

I don’t even know how many people I’d killed yesterday.

I was too afraid to go out and ask.

I honestly did not even want to know.

Shuddering, I laid back down and buried my face into my blankets.

Not long after, I heard the tent flap move. I didn’t look up, so it was a surprise when Cyris spoke.

“You didn’t treat your wounds,” he said.

I sniffed and rubbed my face against my blanket, not wanting to speak.

“You need to treat them--you can’t let them get infected,” he insisted.

I felt him sit down next to me, gently pulling on the blanket until it came out from under me. I looked up, tears still streaming down my cheeks and eyes half swollen shut from how long I’d been crying.

“You’re a right mess, aren’t you,” he said softly, a sad smile on his face. “Who would ever guess that you’re strong enough and skilled enough to take down a Tal-Vashoth by yourself?”

I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at that as I sat up. “Definitely not me,” I muttered, wiping my face on the back of my arm.

“Don’t do that!” Cyris chided, taking my arm and using my blanket to wipe my arm clean. “Some of your cuts have reopened, see?” He tilted my arm and pointed out a cut that was bleeding sluggishly. “Now, come on, let’s get your armor off.”

He helped me remove the leather and metal. I finally got a good look at the armor and squeezed my eyes shut at the realization of just how damaged the leather was. There were lacerations all over the leather, some penetrating through the thick leather entirely. Hell, there were even  _ dents _ in the metal vambraces and shin guards. Whatever it was that had come over me during that last part of the battle, it was not good for my armor. But what  _ really _ got me was the amount of blood that was splashed on each piece. There was too much of it to be from me. It was the blood of the people I’d killed.

“You definitely need to get new armor,” Cyris said, interrupting my thoughts before I could spiral back down. “And maybe don’t do... _ that _ again.”

“I...don’t even know what came over me,” I confessed. “I heard the call for retreat and I just… I don’t know why, I just had to continue fighting. I had to  _ keep _ fighting until there was no one left to fight--I  _ couldn’t lose _ .”

“What do you mean, ‘couldn’t lose’?” He asked, his face serious as he stared into my eyes.

“Just what I said.” I shook my head. “I don’t understand it, either. I mean, yes, I can get competitive when it comes to fighting--but nothing to the point where I just--do  _ that _ .” Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks and I tried to reach up to wipe them away. Instead, Cyris wiped them away with the blanket.

“You’ll figure it out. I’ll help.”

I gave him a watery smile. I doubted it, but I appreciated the thought.

After that, he turned to carefully disinfecting my wounds, picking out the fibers that had gotten caught in the dried blood. I don’t know what it was that he used, but the salve he rubbed over the injuries had a cooling and numbing effect. The pain lessened considerably and I didn’t wince as much when he continued down to my palms.

“You don’t have gloves,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t.”

“You definitely need to get a pair at the next town.”

I nodded, watching his hands carefully tending to my injuries. Back home, I would never fence without my trusty glove. It was padded leather and fit my hand with enough room to fit over my fencing jacket’s sleeves. I don’t know if I could find the like here in Thedas, but at the very least I needed something to protect my hands. The vambraces, even before I got them damaged, didn’t cover my hands. I’d appreciated the freedom of movement for my wrists at the time, but now I wondered if I shouldn’t have just gotten a gauntlet instead.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Cyris began again, “but after what happened yesterday with the battle--it would be better for you if you left as soon as possible.”

I looked up at him, heart pounding as anxiety bubbled up into my throat. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone saw you fighting,” he said, not looking up. “And they’re frightened of you--of your capabilities.”

A pit opened up in my stomach and threatened to swallow me whole.

“Frightened shems always spell trouble for us elves.”

I swallowed thickly and nodded. Fuck, as much as I hated the thought, I’d royally fucked up by fighting too effectively. On one hand, it meant that I wouldn’t have to worry too much about dying in a fight. On the other hand, that meant people would be afraid of me.

“I have nowhere to go,” I confessed, sniffling. “You said--the Denerim alienage--there weren’t many left there. Is there anywhere else?”

Cyris concentrated on his work for a long moment, brow furrowed in concentration. “There’s Wycome,” he finally said as he finished tying a bandage around my hand. “It’s in the Free Marches, but the Inquisitor’s old clan helps run things there--part of the city council. It’s probably the closest safe haven you can reach.”

All the way across the Waking Sea, of fucking course.

I sighed and looked down at me hand, watching my fingers trembling as I tested their movement. I let it fall to my lap.

“Would you...help me find a ship there?” I asked. “I’ve never been on a ship before.” Except for the rare barge that you just drove on and got transported across a river, I legitimately had never been on a ship or boat before. Hell, I’d never even gone kayaking before, either. I don’t even know how to swim!

Cyris sat back and looked at me. “Don’t worry,” he said, smiling in a kind of half grin, a reassuring smile. “I’ll go with you.”

I jumped, not expecting his answer. “Wait,  _ really _ ?”

“Of course,” he nodded, bending down to work on my other hand. My palm on that hand was torn up worse. My skin wasn’t as tough on that hand. “I told you in the beginning, remember? We elves have to stick together. I was trying to earn enough money to take a ship across the sea, to be honest. Ferelden is no place for an elf right about now.”

I agreed, but the thought of having a companion I could rely on as we traveled to a safe place--dare I hoped I could actually trust Cyris? I needed to eventually trust someone enough to get help finding a way back home, but for now...it looked like Cyris was my only hope to get somewhere safe enough that I could start focusing on how to get back home.

“Alright,” I finally said, smiling tentatively as I looked at the top of his red head. “I’ll be counting on you to help get us both to Wycome--safely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little saddened. I was using different colored text to emphasize certain parts of the chapter, but it doesn't cross over to AO3. In any case! Next chapter will be the last chapter of part 1. I'm really excited to have gotten this far in Alana's story, and really excited that others are enjoying her story as well. As I mentioned in the beginning, I started out writing this story for myself. I wanted a protagonist that I could relate to, that wasn't immediately overpowered or had immediate access to characters from the games. I wanted to read about someone that wasn't fit for survival from the get-go or had access to nigh limitless supplies and knowledge to make their transition to a new world easy. I wanted to read about someone that didn't have a 'cheat' skill or magic that made life easier. To me, Alana's struggle for survival is satisfying because she overcomes the obstacles in her path, and not just because she's supposed to, but because she has to in order to survive.
> 
> I know this story will not be to everyone's taste, and I know that there will no doubt be grammatical errors. But at the end of the day, I'm writing what I want to read, and that's enough for me.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read the story this far, and I sincerely hope you continue with me to the very end of Alana's story.


	11. Chapter 11

#### Part One: Sorrow

* * *

Mirah eventually returned to the tent, exhausted but otherwise unharmed. She’d been one of the guards to pull double duty, so I could only imagine just how exhausted she truly was.

On the third day, Mirah and Cyris showed me how I could patch together the more damaged parts of my leather armor. They were rough and ugly, but the patch job would have to do until I got better armor.

After repairing my armor, I was roped into helping take stock of the looted supplies from the bandit camp. There were divided up amongst the merchants, of course, so I had to help Mirah and Cyris carry the loot to Bodahn’s cart. A lot of it was goods that the merchants could sell, but there were a few pieces that that Bodahn gave to the three of us, “for a job well done,” he said.

Cyris got a new dagger that looked as vicious as it was beautiful and Mirah got a new breastplate that looked to be made out of dawnstone. The only reason I knew that was of course because of a party banter in the game where Iron Bull confesses his love of dawnstone because it’s pink and pretty.

And me? Well, I got a pair of gauntlets that looked heavy at first glance but were actually quite light. Obviously made of bloodstone, they were bright red and vicious looking with pointed tips on the ends of the fingers and spiked knuckles. They would hurt like a bitch even if I just balled my fist and punched someone. The inside of the gauntlets were a heavenly, buttery leather, and I knew that even as much as they stood out, I would never give these up.

Of course, I also made sure that I could wield either of my swords easily. The metal was only on the outside, and when I closed my hand around my sword hilt, my grip was tight and sure. I could grip my swords with ease and they would not go flying anywhere. Much better than wielding them bare-handed as I had been doing.

On the fourth day after the battle, we set back out on the Imperial Highway. This time, Mirah did not insist I get in the wagon with Bodahn. Instead, I was able to walk alongside Cyris. It tired me out pretty fast in the beginning, but after a week I was used to it.

Thankfully, there were no more attacks on the caravan for the rest of the journey. We stopped by at least ten villages or so, spending a couple days at each one, so it took us around a month to reach Denerim after the bandit attack.

By this time, I was honestly struggling with my clothing. The amount of weight I’d lost over the course of the last several weeks was startling, and I worried if my skin would ever be able to recover from it. I still wasn’t as small around as Cyris, but I was starting to get there. My clothing beneath the armor was getting baggy, and if it weren’t for the wrap around my waist, I probably would’ve had my pants fall down about now.

With Denerim getting closer every day, I found myself praying and hoping that I’d be able to get new clothes that actually looked decent and fit better. Armor, too, if I could manage it. I wasn’t entirely sure what the pay was for working as a guard, but surely it’d be enough to replace my leather breastplate?

The night before we would reach Denerim, Cyris pulled me aside, leaving Mirah to do the cooking. We walked a little ways away, out of the ring of light from the fire, before stopping and sitting down in the soft grass.

“Tomorrow,” Cyris began. “We reach Denerim.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, feeling unsettled and anxious. The end of the journey was near. The city I had worked so hard to get to was finally within reach. Now that I’d be somewhere vaguely familiar, I’d be able to focus on my next goal: to get someplace safe.

“Mirah’s staying with Bodahn,” Cyris was saying. “As soon as we get him set up in the marketplace, we’ll get our pay and find a ship willing to take us to Wycome.”

I nodded.

His fingers reached down and plucked a few sprigs of grass, playing with them idly. “Two sovereigns each,” he said. “That’s our pay--but I don’t know if you’ll get the same amount since you joined partway through the trip.”

“Where did the caravan begin?”

He tilted his head back, trying to remember. “A town called Wulverton.”

I blinked. I’d never heard of that place before. Then again, the games rarely took place in towns around Thedas, except for the rare few that were used to stock up on items.

“It’s southwest from South Reach,” he said, laughing softly at my confused look. “We only took the Imperial Highway part way before getting off to hit the villages closer to South Reach. They rarely see merchants come through.”

I frowned as he trailed off, registering his words. “You’re not from Wulverton?” I asked. He’d had to think of where the caravan began--he wouldn’t have had to do that if he was from there.

He gave me a lopsided grin. “No, I’m not.” He leaned closer, looked around, and whispered, “I’m actually originally from Gwaren. They knew me too well there to get passage on a ship--so I thought heading inland and trying a port up north would be better.”

I blinked, breath hitching in my throat. I’d thought my journey from the ruined fort in the Brecilian Forest was long--Cyris had been on his for much longer! And if even part of that was by himself.

I let out my breath and reached over with one arm to give him a quick squeeze. “It must’ve been tough,” I said.

He blinked at my gesture before nodding sheepishly, his cheeks reddening. “Well, the journey’s almost over,” he said. “And we’ve got each other’s back, yeah?”

I smiled and nodded. “Yeah.”

He nodded again and grinned toothily. “Then once we hit Denerim tomorrow and get paid, let’s stock up on supplies--should probably get some new threads while we’re at it--and then find a ship willing to take two elves to Wycome without charging an arm and a leg.”

I laughed at his words. They were such familiar turn of phrases, I was happy to hear them. “Sounds like a plan,” I said.

In the morning, we saw more people on the road as soon as we could see Fort Drakon in the distance. Soon, we could see the walls of the city--and where the road we were on joined another.

The caravan slipped easily into the stream of traffic going in and out of the city gates, waiting patiently as the guards checked for anything suspicious. The caravan passed through easily, which was a relief to me and Cyris, I was sure. But as we passed through the city gates with the rest of the foot traffic, I couldn’t help but stare in wonder at Denerim in all its majesty.

The games did little to prepare me for just how massive and noisy the capital was. My hometown was nothing like this--I was used to the wide open streets built for cars, commercial buildings evenly spaced to allow for deliveries or smashed together and sharing a delivery area around back.

Here, the city had been built up seemingly haphazardly. Or, more likely, organically. The narrow streets twisted and curled around buildings, some of the buildings sharing second floors despite an alley running between the two first floors. Everywhere, there were people. Humans, qunari, dwarves, and a few elves here and there. Mostly humans, but everywhere I looked there were people who weren’t the familiar shape of human.

Trepidation curled in my belly and I brought an arm up to wrap around my waist. The familiar shape of humans...of people…and yet I knew, now, that they were not friendly. For the most part, at least. Back home, my ears were an oddity, nothing more--I was still a human there. But here, my ears made me an elf--I was not considered a human here.

I jumped as I felt a hand rest on my back, turning to find Cyris giving me a wide smile. “We’ll be alright,” he reassured me. “We’re still with the caravan.”

For now.

Nodding, I said nothing and continued walking alongside Bodahn’s cart.

We eventually came to a stop in the market district of Denerim, a place I vaguely remembered from the first game. It was a lot larger than I remembered, at least. Could the ten years since the Fifth Blight really have changed everything so much? Or was it a limitation of graphic capabilities?

We helped Bodahn set up his stall and goods as part of our final duty.

“Here’s where we part ways, Bodahn,” Cyris said abruptly, dusting his hands as he stood from where he had set down the final crate. He moved over to the side and picked up a backpack--the one he’d been traveling with, I assumed. “Me and Alana are heading elsewhere.”

“Of course, of course,” Bodahn nodded as if he had been expecting the very thing. He dug through the lockbox he carried personally that stored his money. Moving closer to Cyris, he handed him two gold coins--sovereigns. “You’ve been a good guard, Cyris. If you ever need a reference, let me know!”

“I hopefully won’t, but thank you anyway,” Cyris grinned.

Bodahn handed me the same amount, much to my surprise. He just smiled at me with those wrinkled, twinkling eyes of his. “Stay safe, Alana,” he said quietly. “You’ve come a long way since South Reach--I’d hate to see you get hurt more than you have been.”

In his own way, Bodahn cared. I guess that’s why he’d picked me up as a guard. I smiled back at him, clutching the coins and nodded. “Thank you, Bodahn,” I said. “I hope you see Sandal soon.”

I turned, grabbing my own backpack, and started walking off with Cyris.

Behind me, I heard Bodahn asking Mirah, “Did I ever tell her my boy’s name?”

_ Shit! _

I cursed myself for letting my knowledge slip and hurriedly ducked away after Cyris.

We went a few streets over from the main marketplace and found a more dilapidated looking part of the city. “I think this is closer to the alienage,” Cyris whispered to me.

There were more elves around here along with dwarves and qunari, and less humans. The merchants set up outside ignored us for the most part, concentrating on the customers that were already perusing their wares.

I nodded in agreement. “Will we be okay with our sovereigns?” I whispered quietly.

“We should be,” he said, but frowned as he eyed the people around us. “But just in case, keep yours hidden. We’ll use mine for now.”

I nodded and used Cyris as a shield so that I could secret away the two sovereigns.

After that, we managed to find a second hand clothing store. I was so happy to know that they existed here--new clothes would take too long to get.

Carefully looking through the clothes neatly stacked on shelves, I managed to find a tunic large enough for my current size, along with a pair of leggings also large enough for my current size. At Cyris’s urging, I also picked out a mildly stained chemise and a kind of overdress that was laced beneath the bust. I’m not quite sure why he insisted considering how it was quite normal for women to wear tunics and leggings as far as I’d seen.

As we left the store with our purchases stuffed into our bags, I insisted we make a detour to a cobbler. My boots were beginning to fall apart and I was not going to go without.

Cyris, of course, gave me a weird look and said, “I’ve been meaning to ask, but why do you wear shoes?”

I frowned at him and asked sarcastically, “Why don’t you wear shoes?”

“I’m an elf, Alana,” he said in a deadpan. “You’re an elf, too. Our feet are tough. We don’t need shoes like shems.”

“Well this elf does,” I snorted and went inside.

The cobbler wound up cooing over my boots, practically begging me to let him have them so that he could copy their design. Considering they were from another world, I declined his generous offer and instead outright purchased a new pair of leather boots that had a surprisingly thick sole. Those I had a hard time stuffing into my back, but I did so anyway. I needed a new pair of boots--though the question remained what I’d do with my old pair.

After the cobbler, we replaced the leather parts of our gear and picked up waxed leather coats.

“Good for keeping warm in the rain,” Cyris said as he handed me mine. I had no more room inside for it, so I wound up slipping it on over my gear. It was roomy enough that I didn’t feel restricted in my arm movements.

Our final stop was an armorsmith where I picked up a cuirass and hauberk for a surprisingly cheap price. I don’t know if that meant the quality was inferior, but I most certainly felt better protected with them on.

After all was said and done, Cyris and I still had plenty of money left over, especially when I brought out the old map I had taken from that fort my first days in Thedas and sold it to a merchant that traded in miscellaneous goods.

We stopped for a meal in a tavern, nervously keeping an eye on the patrons as the barmaids begrudgingly served us. We ate swiftly and moved on to the docks.

It was just as crowded, if not more, than the city gates. There were a lot more people of varying skin tones here, no doubt from Rivain and Antiva. I heard a lot of different accents, some familiar and others not so familiar. 

I wound up trailing behind Cyris since he was more knowledgeable about where to go to get information. We wound up stopping by one of the warehouses where, shockingly enough, we found an elf working as a foreman.

He told us of a ship that had arrived last week from the Free Marches whose captain was soft on elves and would be a good one to see about passage.

Cyris thanked him with a couple silvers and we headed toward the dock the foreman had indicated.

I didn’t know much about ships, but the one we came to looked about as impressive as any preserved ancient ship I’d ever seen back home.

“The  _ Golden Shadow, _ ” Cyris read off to me. “This is the one we’re looking for.”

I nodded, hands gripping the straps of my backpack tightly as he led us toward a group of intimidating people hanging around the end of the pier where the ship was docked. They were a bunch of humans.

One of the group noticed us and leveraged himself up off a crate. “What business do you have here?” He demanded.

Cyris, for his part, just smiled his wide grin and held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Just looking for the captain of the  _ Golden Shadow _ ,” he said in a friendly voice.

The man narrowed his eyes and spit on the dock. Gross. “No one sees the captain without a proper introduction with the first mate.”

“Where would we find them?”

“You’re looking at him,” the man grinned and advanced closer to us. He towered over us easily. “Now, what’s your business here?”

“Now, now, sir,” Cyris began, backing up a step. “I want no trouble--I was just told if we wanted passage to the Free Marches, the captain of the  _ Golden Shadow _ was our best bet.”

The other members of the group began to stand up and move towards us. Nervously, I edged towards Cyris and kept a close eye on the humans. Wasn’t the captain supposed to be someone that looked kindly on elves? Was their crew the same way?

Silence reigned for several heartbeats.

“A sovereign each,” the man said abruptly, leaning back and crossing his arms over his burly chest. “You stay in the hold until nightfall. You bring your own food and drink. We can’t guarantee your safety where you’re going, but we can at least get you out of the city.”

I blinked in surprise. All of that was just an intimidation tactic? To scare off potential spies?

Oh thank  _ fuck _ .

Cyris looked to me in surprise as I started moving to get out the two sovereigns. He stayed my hand and shook his head before turning back to the first mate. “I want to meet the captain first.” He said. “I don’t want you stealing our money with promises and leaving us to rot.”

A laugh suddenly rang out and I looked toward the ship in shock. A shadowed figure stood at the top of the gangplank.

“I think I like you,” the shadow said before making their way down the plank. Once on the dock, I could see that the newcomer was a dark skinned woman with thick curling hair. She reminded me of Isabella. A Rivaini, then?

“I’m Mercedes,” she said. “Captain of the  _ Golden Shadow _ . He’s Jack, my first mate.”

“Cyris.”

“I’m Alana…” I trailed off, unsure if I should say my last name. It’s not that I was hiding it, but everyone was introducing themselves without one.

“Then, Cyris, Alana. A sovereign each, just like Jack said. I’ll send one of my men to get you provisions for the trip, so the sovereign goes in part to paying that.”

That was a relief!

Cyris nodded, looking noticeably relieved after the captain introduced herself. He looked to me and nodded again, so I reached into the belt pouch I’d squirreled the sovereigns in and presented them to Mercedes.

She took them from me, looking them over quickly, before pocketing them. “Alright, welcome aboard, you two. Looking to get to Wycome, I take it?”

“How’d you guess?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“It’s where most elves want to go when they come to me,” she said, starting back up the plank and waving us to follow her. “It’s possibly the safest place to be an elf in all of Thedas right now. Elves are either outright disappearing or heading in droves to Wycome, truth be told.”

That made sense given what I knew of the state of Thedas immediately after the ending of Trespasser. Wycome had elves in important roles, so it’d be relatively safe. Otherwise, elves were probably heading towards wherever Solas was holed up building his army of spies.

She showed us down to the hold where Cyris and I made ourselves comfortable. The voyage would take about five days--a relatively quick journey, I thought. Barring rough weather, of course.

It wasn’t long before one of the captain’s men brought down provisions for us and showed us where we could, uh, do our business.

After that, it was only a matter of hours before the ship began to rock and the voices of the crew rang out from above us. We were on our way out of Denerim, out of Ferelden.

Shit, what was I going to do once we reached Wycome? I didn’t have any skills to get a job! Shit, shit, shit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this, part 1 is officially ended! I'm really glad that you've all stuck through this until now and want to extend my heartfelt thanks to everyone. Unfortunately, I will be taking a 4 week break starting now with Chapter 12 being posted on March 14th. During the course of the last several weeks, I've gotten a little behind on writing up the next chapters and a lot behind on other projects that I now need to turn my attention towards. I will be taking this opportunity to finish up those other projects so that I can turn my attention back to the story and get a jumpstart on writing up part 2.
> 
> Once again, thank you all for reading this far, and I will see you all on March 14th!


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